But Evelyn wanted to know which of the sisters had complained, so that she might beg her pardon.
"She doesn't want you to beg her pardon."
"I beg you to allow me, it will be better that I should. The benefit will be mine."
The Prioress shook her head, and listened willingly to Evelyn, who told her of her letter to Monsignor. "Now, wasn't it extraordinary, Mother, that I should have written like that about Sister Bridget, and to-day you should tell me that the lay sisters complained about me? If the complaint had been that I was inclined to put the active above the contemplative orders and was dissatisfied with our life here—"
"Dissatisfied!" the Prioress said.
"Only this, Mother: I have been reading the story of the Order of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and it seems to me so wonderful that everything else, for the moment, seems insignificant."
The Reverend Mother smiled.
"Your enthusiasms, my dear Evelyn, are delightful. The last book you read, the last person you meet—"
"Do you think I am so frivolous, so changeable as that, dear Mother?"
"Not changeable, Evelyn, but spontaneous."