“Thank you, Mother Philippa.  I liked my bed.  I slept very well.”  Evelyn drew two chairs forward, and Mother Philippa introduced Evelyn to Sister Mary John.  And while she explained that she had heard from the Reverend Mother that Miss Innes had promised to sing at Benediction, Sister Mary John sat watching Evelyn, her large brown eyes wide open.  Her eagerness was even a little comical, and Evelyn smiled through her growing liking for this nun.  She was unlike any other nun she had seen.  Nuns were usually formal and placid, but Sister Mary John was so irreparably herself that while the others presented feeble imitations of the Reverend Mother’s manner, her walk and speech, Sister Mary John continued to slouch along, to cross her legs, to swing her arms, to lean forward and interrupt when she was interested in the conversation; when she was not, she did not attempt to hide her indifference.  Evelyn thought that she must be about eight-and-twenty or thirty.  The eyes were brown and exultant, and the eyebrows seemed very straight and black in the sallow complexion.  All the features were large, but a little of the radiant smile that had lit up all her features when she came forward to greet Evelyn still lingered on her face.  Now and then she seemed to grow impatient, and then she forgot her impatience and the smile floated back again.  At last her opportunity came, and she seized it eagerly.

“I’m quite ashamed, Miss Innes, we sang so badly this morning; our little choir can do better than that.”

“I was interested; the organ was very well played.”

“Did you think so?  I have not sufficient time for practice, but I love music, and am longing to hear you sing.  But the Reverend Mother says that you have brought no music with you.”

“I hear,” said Mother Philippa, “that you do not care for Gounod’s ’Ave Maria.’”

“If the Reverend Mother wishes me to sing it, I shall be delighted to do so, if Sister Mary John has the music.”

Sister Mary John shook her head authoritatively, and said that she quite understood that Miss Innes did not approve of the liberty of writing any melody over Bach’s beautiful prelude.  Besides, it required a violin.  The conversation then turned on the music at St. Joseph’s.  Sister Mary John listened, breaking suddenly in with some question regarding Palestrina.  She had never heard any of his music; would Miss Innes lend her some?  Was there nothing of his that they could sing in the convent?

“I do not know anything of his written for two voices.  You might play the other parts on the organ, but I’m afraid it would sound not a little ridiculous.”

“But have you heard the Benedictine nuns sing the plain chant; they pause in the middle of the verse—­that is the tradition, is it not?”