“Silence!” said Sister Mary. “I will go and speak with the woman.”
She found in the guest-chamber a woman of about thirty, who stood dropping courtesies as if she were very uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable Dorothy Denny was. She did not know what “nervous” meant, but she was exceedingly nervous for all that. In the first place, she felt extremely doubtful whether if she trusted herself inside a convent, she would ever have a chance of getting out again; and in the second she was deeply concerned about several things, of which one was Cissy.
“What do you want, good woman?”
“Please you, Madam, I cry you mercy for troubling of you, but if I might speak a word with the dear child—”
“What dear child?” asked the nun placidly.
Dorothy’s fright grew. Were they going to deny Cissy to her, or even to say that she was not there?
“Please you, good Sister, I mean little Cis—Cicely Johnson, an’ it like you, that I was sent to with a message from my mistress, the hostess of the King’s Head in Colchester.”
“Cicely Johnson is not now at liberty. You can give the message to me.”
“May I wait till I can see her?”