“How would you like to sit at the desk there? I have sat in rooms where a sister was my teacher.”
“Oh, I think I’d better not,” she replied. “I’m not sure if it’s permissible. I——”
Just then another, an older, nun came in, and she put the matter to her in soft whispers.
She was dying to do it. I could see that.
“Well, the rules,” I heard the other say aloud.
There was more whispering, and then she mounted the platform and turned her head sidewise so that her bonnet concealed her face. Franklin snapped her.
“Would you like a copy of it, if it turns out well?” I inquired.
“Oh, it would please me very much.”
“And your name?”
“Sister Mary Caroline—316 Vine Street.”