Ralph was a little taken aback by the bearing of the Abbess. In the course of the enquiry, when he was perplexed by one or two of the records, she rose from her chair before the table, and came round to his side, drawing up a seat as she did so; Ralph could hardly tell her to go back, but his magisterial air was a little affected by having one whom he almost considered as a culprit sitting judicially beside him.
“It is better for me to be here,” she said. “I can explain more easily so.”
There was a little orchard that the nuns had sold in the previous year; and Ralph asked for an explanation.
“It came from the Kingsford family,” she said serenely; “it was useless to us.”
“But—” began the inquisitor.
“We needed some new vestments,” she went on. “You will understand, Mr. Torridon, that it was necessary for us to sell it. We are not rich at all.”
There was nothing else that called for comment; except the manner in which the books were kept. Ralph suggested some other method.
“Dame Agnes has her own ways,” said the old lady. “We must not disturb her.”
And Dame Agnes assumed a profound and financial air on the other side of the table.