When Mary had taken off her hat she went downstairs to tea, and during the meal she could talk about nothing but Evangeline and the wedding. But when she had finished and the tea-things had been removed, she brought her stool to Sister Agatha's side and looked up a little wistfully into her face; she felt she had nobody but Sister Agatha now.
'Please tell me the end of the story about Lucy,' she said.
'To begin with,' answered Sister Agatha, 'I think Evangeline made a little mistake. I don't fancy the little girl's name was Lucy after all. I think it must have been Mary.'
'Was it Mary Brown?' asked Mary, with her eyes very widely open.
'Yes,' said Sister Agatha.
'I—I wondered whether it was,' said Mary solemnly.
'And,' Sister Agatha continued, 'I rather think that Sister Benevolence should have been called Sister Agatha, although it isn't nearly such a nice name.'
'I thought it was you,' answered Mary.
'Well,' said Sister Agatha, 'Mary was a dear little girl and Sister Agatha grew very fond of her. And when Evangeline was very busy and didn't know quite what to do with her—why Sister Agatha thought it was time to put her thinking-cap on.'
'Is it like the cap you've got on now?' asked Mary, staring up at Sister Agatha's white cap.