“I don’t know—she takes a long while to come right when any body has put her wrong—ever so much longer than you or Sister Margaret. The lightning comes into Sister Margaret’s eyes, and then away it runs, and she looks so sorry that she let it come; and you only look sorry without any lightning. But Mother Ada looks I don’t know how—as if she’d like to pull all the hair off your head, and all your teeth out of your mouth, and wouldn’t feel any better till she’d done it.”
I laughed, and told the child to go to sleep, and not trouble her little head about Mother Ada. But when I came into my cell, I began to wonder if Sister Ada’s will is perfectly mortified. It does not look exactly like it.
Before I had done more than think of undressing, Sister Gaillarde rapped at my door.
“Sister Annora, may I have a little chat with you?”
“Do come in, Sister, and sit down,” said I.
“This world’s a very queer place!” said Sister Gaillarde, sitting down on my bed. “It would not be a bad place, but for the folks in it: and they are as queer as can be. I thought I’d just give you a hint, Sister, that you might feel less taken by surprise—I expect you’ll have a lecture given you to-morrow.”
“What have I done?” I asked, rather blankly.
Sister Gaillarde laughed till the tears came into her eyes.
“Oh dear, the comicality of folks in this world!” saith she. “Sister Annora, do you know that you are a very carnal person?”
“Indeed, I have always feared so,” said I, sorrowfully.