'You'll excuse me, Reverend Mother.'
It was the Sister in charge of the laundry, and, seeing her crippled arm, Father Oliver remembered that her dress had become entangled in the machinery. He didn't know, however, that the fault lay with Mary, who was told off to watch the machinery and to stop it instantly in case of necessity.
'She can't keep her attention fixed on anything, not even on her prayers, and what she calls piety I should call idleness. It's terrible to have to do with stupid women, and the convent is so full of them that I often wonder what is the good of having a convent at all.'
'But, Eliza, you don't regret—'
'No, of course I don't regret. I should do just the same again. But don't let us waste our time talking about vocations. I hear enough of that here. I want you to tell me about the music-mistress; that's what interests me.'
And when Father Oliver had told her the whole story and showed her Father O'Grady's letter, she said:
'You know I always thought you were a little hard on Miss Glynn. Father O'Grady's letter convinces me that you were.'
'My dear Eliza, I don't want advice; I've suffered enough.'
'Oliver dear, forgive me.' And the nun put out her hand to detain him.
'Well, don't say again, Eliza, that you always thought. It's irritating, and it does no good.'