“It will soon be eleven, Cicely dear. You are quite fit to go to Father Morley? I need not ask him to come here?” she said.
“I could go there, but why does he want me?” asked Cicely.
“I never ask why Father Morley wants me; I’m too grateful to be allowed to see him,” said Miss Braithwaite smiling. “He is the most saintly person I have ever known, and his father, a convert, once an Episcopalian clergyman, was a confessor of the Faith, who suffered for it. This saintly son was his reward, one of his rewards! I’ll write three tiny notes, Cicely, then we’ll go in my coupé to ask Father Morley himself, what he wants of brave Cis!”
At half past ten Miss Braithwaite and Cis set forth, “not to risk keeping Father Morley waiting,” Miss Braithwaite said.
“I’ll leave you here, and return for you,” she told Cis, stopping her car before the Jesuit house and school. “I have two people whom I ought to see this morning, if it is at all possible. I’ll be back here not later than noon, I hope. But wait for me; I won’t fail you. One never is able to make a positive engagement to the minute, when a car is involved in its keeping.”
CHAPTER XV
DECISION
THE lay-brother who responded to Cicely’s summons on the bell was old, slow moving, kindly, but remote from daily affairs. He was probably inured to the coming of harassed people in hot haste to see one of the priests, and had learned to feel that haste was unnecessary, trouble but fleeting.
“Father Morley is expecting someone; he told me to say that he could not see anyone but her till after dinner. Would you be her? Cicely Adair was the name,” the old brother said.
“Yes. Father Morley told me to come at eleven,” replied Cicely.
“It’s prompt you are,” commented the brother, raising his hand for Cis to listen to the slow striking of a clock. “Go into that parlor yonder, the third one down; the first two are occupied.”