“The curiosity of the world’s people does not help their souls,” said one of the knitters.
“She thinks we walk in the Way to Peace,” said the Eldress.
“Yee; we do,” said Brother George.
“Shall I tell her ‘nay’?” the Eldress questioned, calmly.
“Yee,” said Brother George; and the dozing sisters murmured “Yee.”
“Wait,” said Brother Nathan; “her husband—HE has something to him. Let her come.”
“But if she visited us, how would that affect him?” Eldress Hannah asked, surprised into faint animation.
“If she was moved to stay it would affect him,” Brother Nathan said, dryly; “he would come, too, and there are very few of us left, Eldress. He would be a great gain.”
There was a long silence. Brother William’s gray head sagged on his shoulder, and the hymn-book slipped from his gnarled old hands. The knitting sisters began, one after another, to stab their needles into their balls of gray yarn and roll their work up in their aprons.
“It’s getting late, Eldress,” one of them said, and glanced at the clock.