Pilar's bosom rose once, but she made no reply.
"Come," said Doña Concepción, and the six followed meekly in her wake. She led them to her private sala, a bare cold room, even in summer. It was uncarpeted; a few religious prints were on the whitewashed walls; there were eight chairs, and a table covered with books and papers. The six shivered. To be invited to this room meant the greatest of honours or a lecture precursory to the severest punishment in the system of the convent. Doña Concepción seated herself in a large chair, but her guests were not invited to relieve their weakened knees.
"Did you speak—any of you?" she asked in a moment.
Five heads shook emphatically.
"But?"
Eustaquia, Elena, and Lola drew a long breath, then confessed their misdoings glibly enough.
"And the others?"
"They had no chance," said Eustaquia, with some sarcasm.
"Thou wouldst have found a chance," replied the Lady Superior, coldly. "Thou art the first in all naughtiness, and thy path in life will be stormy if thou dost not curb thy love of adventure and insubordination."
She covered her face with her hand and regarded the floor for some moments in silence. It was the first performance of the kind that had come to her knowledge, and she was at a loss what to do. Finally she said severely: "Go each to your bed and remain there on bread and water for twenty-four hours. Your punishment shall be known at the Presidio. And if it ever happens again, I shall send you home in disgrace. Now go."