"Why, the lady that came to us when the gray nuns' house was broken up," replied Cicely. "She is going to some convent in the north, when she can do so safely; but meantime your father gave Anne leave to ask her to stay with us. You saw her in the shop when you came."
"Was that Sister Barbara?" asked Jack, surprised. "I never thought of that. I am sure she looks like a nice lady."
"And so she is indeed, and yet she was in a way a great disappointment to your sister. You see, Anne thought that when Sister Barbara came she would have someone to help her in her penances and prayers. So she fitted up the room next her own with a rood, and an image of our Lady, and I don't know what all, and there Sister Barbara was to live secluded, and Anne was to fetch her meals, and they were to have another little convent all to themselves. Your father never interfered with her, but let her arrange matters in her own fashion; only he smiled when Anne talked about Sister Barbara's living secluded, and about her having lived in the convent ever since she was three years old, and knowing nothing of earthly vanities; and he said the gentlewoman should have her way, whatever it was."
"He is certainly the best-natured man that ever lived," said Jack. "But please go on, Cousin Cicely, I want to know how it turned out."
"Well, it turned out differently and much more pleasantly than anybody expected," continued Cicely. "Sister Barbara came at the time appointed, and Anne took her up to her room where she was to be secluded. But, bless you, she did not stay there, not she. The second day, she came down into the kitchen where I was busy cooking, and overseeing the maids. She was as much interested as could be in everything, and it being a fast-day, she proposed to me that she should make some almond pottage, such as they used to have in the convent at such times, for your father's dinner. Well, my dear, I thought I was a pretty good cook—"
"And so you are," said Jack.
"But, bless you, I cannot hold a candle to her! I never saw anywhere such nice things as she makes. Well, she was a bit shy of your father at first, but pretty soon she got to dining with the family, and bringing her work down in the sitting-room, and there was an end of all the seclusion. By and by she came to me, and says she:
"'Dame Cicely, I am tired of idleness, and I want to do something to pay for my keeping.'"
"'Laws me, madam!' says I, 'Don't you think of such a thing. You are a born lady,' says I, 'and I am sure Master Lucas thinks it a pleasure and an honor to have you for a guest.'"
"'You are all very good people,' says Sister Barbara. 'I never guessed before how lovely a thing family life could be. For you see, dame, my mother died when I was but a babe in arms,' says she, 'and I was put into the convent, and have never known anything else. But now I am here with you,' says she, 'life seems so much brighter and worth so much more than it has ever done before.'"