Sister Philippa grew redder.
“Was that your intention?” my Lady persisted.
“I am sure I am as poor as any body!” sobbed the Sister. “We never get any thing good. All the nice things we make go to the poor, or to guests. I can’t see why one might not have a bite one’s self.”
“Were you going to eat them yourself?”
“One of them, I was: the others were for Sister Roberga.”
“Sister Roberga shall answer for herself. I will have no tale-telling in my house. This evening at supper, Sister, you will stand at the end of the refectory, with that placenta in your hand, and say in the hearing of all the Sisters—‘I stole this placenta from the kitchen, and I ask pardon of God and the Saints for that theft.’ Then you may eat it, if you choose to do so.”
My Lady confiscated the remainder, leaving the placenta in Sister Philippa’s hand. She looked for a minute as if she would heartily like to throw it down, and stamp on it: but either she feared to bring on herself a heavier punishment, or she did not wish to lose the dainty. She wrapped it in her coverchief, and went upstairs, sobbing as she went.
My Lady despatched Sister Marian at once to fetch Sister Roberga. She came, looking defiant enough, and confessed brazenly that she knew of Sister Philippa’s theft, and had incited her to it.
“I thought as much,” said my Lady sternly, “and therefore I dealt the more lightly with your poor dupe, over whom I have suspected your influence for evil a long while. Sister Annora, do you and Sister Isabel take this sinner to the penitential cell, and I will take counsel how to use her.”
We tried to obey: but Sister Roberga proved so unmanageable that we had to call in three more Sisters ere we could lodge her in the cell. At long last we did it; but my arms ached for some time after.