VI
"Really, I am discouraged about that child," said Sister Agatha just after Easter. She was standing at one of the schoolroom windows that overlooked the yard; she spoke as if thoroughly vexed.
"What is it now—208 again?" Sister Angelica looked up from the copybook she was correcting.
"Oh, yes, of course; it's always 208."
"Oh, she doesn't mean anything; it's only her high spirits; they must have some vent."
"It's been her ruin being on the stage even for those few weeks, and ever since the Van Ostends began to make of her and have her over for that Christmas luncheon and the Sunday nights, the child is neither to have nor to hold. What with her 'make believing' and her 'acting' she upsets the girls generally. She ought to be set to good steady work; the first chance I get I'll put her to it. I only wish some one would adopt her—"
"I heard Father Honoré—"
"Look at her now!" exclaimed Sister Agatha interrupting her.
Sister Angelica joined her at the window. They could not only see but hear all that was going on below. With the garbage house as a stage-setting and background to the performance, Flibbertigibbet was courtesying low to her audience; the skirt of her scant gingham dress was held in her two hands up and out to its full extent. The orphans crouched on the pavement in a triple semi-circle in front of her.
"All this rigmarole comes of the theatre," said Sister Agatha grimly.