“Oh, do take them away, Sister Mary John; you make me ashamed before Monsignor.  Such vanity!  What will he think of my bringing my notices to read to you?  But you mustn’t think I am so vain as that, Monsignor; it was really because I thought the nuns would be interested to hear of the music—­and to excuse myself.  But you know, Mother, once I take a project in hand I don’t give it up easily.  I have made up my mind to redeem this convent from debt, and it shall be done.  My concert tour was a failure, but I have another idea in my head; and I came here to tell it to you.  I don’t know what Monsignor will think of it.  I have been offered a good deal of money to go to America to sing my own parts, for Wagner is not yet dead in America.”

“But, Miss Innes, I thought you intended to leave the stage?”

“I have left the stage, but I intend to go back to it.  That is a point on which I will have to talk to Monsignor.”  Evelyn waited for the prelate to speak.

“Such determination is very unusual, and if the cause be a good one I congratulate you, Mother Prioress, on your champion who, to defend you, will start for the New World.”

“Well, Monsignor, unless you repudiate the motives of those who went to Palestine to fight for the Holy Sepulchre, why should you repudiate mine?”

“But I haven’t said a word; indeed—­”

“But you will talk to me about it, won’t you?  For I must have your opinion before I go, Monsignor.”

“Well, now I think I shall disappear,” said Sister Mary John.  “I’m going to feed the birds.”

“But you asked me to go with you.”

“That was before Monsignor came.  But perhaps he would like to come with us.  The garden is beautiful and white, and all the birds are waiting for me, poor darlings!”

The nuns, Evelyn and Monsignor went down the steps.

“There is a great deal of snow in the sky yet,” said Sister Mary John, pointing to the yellow horizon.  “To-night or to-morrow it will fall, and the birds will die, if we don’t feed them.”

A flock of speckled starlings flew into a tree, not recognising Evelyn and Monsignor, but the blackbirds and thrushes were tamer and ran in front, watching the visitors with round, thoughtful eyes, the beautiful shape of the blackbird showing against the white background, and everybody admiring his golden bill and legs.  The sparrows flew about Sister Mary John in a little cloud, until they were driven away by three great gulls come up from the Thames, driven inland by hard weather.  A battle began, the gulls pecking at each other, wasting time in fighting instead of sharing the bread, only stopping now and then to chase away the arrogant sparrows.  The robin, the wisest bird, came to Sister Mary John’s hand for his food, preferring the buttered bread to the dry.  There were rooks in the grey sky, and very soon two hovered over the garden, eventually descending into the garden with wings slanted, and then the seagulls