As the clock struck nine, she and Sister Sarah entered the anteroom, and the latter advanced to the grating and looked into my study, peering from side to side. I did not like this sister's face; she looked as if she had grown unpleasantly plump on watered milk.
"Is it necessary," she asked, "that you should smoke tobacco during your working hours?"
"I never do it," I replied indignantly,—"never!"
"Several times," she said, "I have thought I perceived the smell of tobacco smoke in this sister's garments."
"You are utterly mistaken!" I exclaimed. "During the hours of work these rooms are perfectly free from anything of the sort."
She gave a little grunt and departed, and when she had locked the door I could not restrain a slight ejaculation of annoyance.
"You must not mind Sister Sarah," said the sweet voice of my nun behind the barricade of her bonnet; "she is as mad as hops this morning."
"What is the matter with her?" I asked, my angry feelings disappearing in an instant.
"She and Mother Anastasia have had a long discussion about the message you sent in regard to my keeping on with the story. Sister Sarah is very much opposed to my doing your writing at all."
"Well, as she is not the head of your House, I suppose we need not trouble ourselves about that," I replied. "But how does the arrangement suit you? Are you satisfied to continue to write my little story?"