“You will not, Mother? For whom, then?” said Sister Philippa.
“If you should be appointed to collect the votes, Sister, you will know,” was Mother Joan’s reply.
“Now, is that not too bad?” said Sister Philippa, when Mother Joan had passed on. “Of course the Mothers will collect the votes.”
“I fancy Mother Joan meant we Sisters ought not to ask,” I said.
“O Sister! did you not enjoy that quarrel between the Mothers this morning?” cried she.
“Certainly not,” I answered. “I could not enjoy seeing any one either distressed or angry.”
“Oh; but it was so delightful to see Mother Ada let herself down!” cried Philippa. “So proud and stuck-up and like an icicle as she always is! Ha jolife! and she calls herself the humblest Sister in the house!”
Margaret had come up, and stood listening to us.
“Who think you is the humblest, Sister Philippa?”
“I don’t know,” said Sister Philippa. “If you asked me who was the proudest, maybe I could tell—only that I should have to name so many.”