“It would be a great advantage if Evelyn could discover she had a vocation.  Four or five, perhaps six hundred a year—­she must have at least that, for opera singers are very well paid, so I have always heard—­would—­”

“But, Mother Philippa, the whole question is whether Evelyn has a vocation.  We know what the advantages would be,” said Mother Hilda in a low, insinuating voice which always exasperated the Reverend Mother.

“I think it would be better to wait,” Mother Philippa answered.  “You see, she is suffering from a great mental breakdown; I think she should have her chance like another.”  And, turning to the Prioress, she said, “Dear Mother, do you think when Evelyn recovers her health sufficiently to arrive at a decision that she will stay with us?”

“Not if a dead set is made against her, and if she is made to feel she has no vocation, and that her influence is a pernicious one.”

“Dear Mother, I never said—­”

“Well, don’t let us discuss the matter any more for the moment.  Of course, if you decide that Evelyn is not to remain in the novitiate—­”

“It is for you to decide the matter.  You are Reverend Mother here, it is for us to obey; only since you ask me—­”

“Ask you, Hilda?  But you tell me nothing.  You merely oppose.  What is your dislike to Evelyn?”

“Dislike!”

“I am sure there is no dislike on Mother Hilda’s part,” Mother Philippa said; “I am quite sure of that, Reverend Mother.  Evelyn’s health is certainly improving, and I hope she will soon be able to sing for us again at Benediction.  Haven’t you noticed that our congregation is beginning to fall away?  And you won’t deny that the fact that an opera singer wishes to enter our convent gives a distinction—­”

“It depends, Mother Philippa, in what sense you use the word ‘distinction.’  But I see you don’t agree with me; you think with the Prioress that Evelyn is—­”

“Don’t let us argue this question any more.  Hilda, go and tell Evelyn I want her.”

“How Hilda does try to thwart me, to make things more difficult than they are!”

“Evelyn, my dear child, I have sent for you to ask if you feel well enough to-day to sing for us at Benediction?”

“Oh, yes, dear Mother, why shouldn’t I sing for you?  What would you like me to sing?"’ The Prioress hesitated, and then asked Evelyn to suggest some pieces, and after several suggestions Evelyn said: 

“Perhaps it would be better if I were to call Sister Mary John, if you will allow me, Mother.”  And she went away, calling to the other nun, who came quickly from the kitchen garden in her big boots and her habit tucked up nearly to her knees, looking very much more like a labouring woman than a musician.

“We were talking just now of what Evelyn would sing for us at Benediction; perhaps you had better go away and discuss the matter between you.”

“Will you sing Stradella’s ‘Chanson d’Eglise’ or will you sing Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’?  Nothing is more beautiful than that.”