“You do not know me yet,” said Vi, modestly.  “Though so tall, I am only a little girl and do not know enough to make an interesting companion for a young lady.”

“Quite a mistake, Vi,” said Isadore rising.  “But there is the dinner-bell.  Come let us try the soothing and exhilarating effect of food and drink upon our flagging spirits.  We will not wait for Art; there’s no knowing when he can leave his patients; and Cal’s away on business.”

On leaving the table, Isadore carried off her young cousins to her own apartments.  Rose was persuaded to lie down and take a nap, while the older girls conversed together in an adjoining room.

“Isn’t it delightful to be at home again, after all those years in the convent?” queried Vi.

“I enjoy home, certainly,” replied Isa, “yet I deeply regretted leaving the sisters; for you cannot think how good and kind they were to me.  Shall I tell you about it? about my life there?”

“Oh, do!  I should so like to hear it.”

Isadore smiled at the eager tone, the bright interested look, and at once began a long and minute description of the events of her school-days at the nunnery, ending with a eulogy upon convent life in general, and the nuns who had been her educators, in particular.  “They lived such holy, devoted lives, were so kind, so good, so self-denying.”

Violet listened attentively, making no remark, but Isadore read disapproval more than once in her speaking countenance.

“I wish your mamma would send you and Elsie there to finish,” remarked Isa, breaking the pause which followed the conclusion of her narrative.  “Should you not like to go?”

“No, oh no, no!”

“Why not?”

“Isa, I could never, never do some of those things you say they require—­bow to images or pictures, or kneel before them, or join in prayers or hymns to the Virgin.”

“I don’t know how you could be so wicked as to refuse.  She is the queen of Heaven and mother of God.”

“Isa!” and Violet looked inexpressibly shocked.

“You can’t deny it.  Wasn’t Jesus God?”

“Yes; he is God.  ’In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’  ’And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.’”

“Ah! and was not the Virgin Mary his mother?’”

Vi looked perplexed for a moment, then brightening, “Ah, I know now,’” she said, “Jesus was God and man both.’”

“Well?”

“And—­mamma told me—­Mary was the mother of his human nature only, and it is blasphemous to call her the mother of God; and to do her homage is idolatry.”

“So I thought before I went to the convent,” said Isadore, “but the sisters convinced me of my error.  Vi, I should like to show you something.  Can you keep a secret?”

“I have never had a secret from mamma; I do not wish to have any.”

“But you can’t tell her everything now while she’s away, and this concerns no one but myself.  I know I can trust to your honor,” and taking Vi’s hand, she opened a door and drew her into a large closet, lighted by a small circular window quite high up in the wall.  The place was fitted up as an oratory, with a picture of the Virgin and child, and a crucifix, standing on a little table with a prayer-book and rosary beside it.