I thought she was ill, but she said it was only a cold she had caught in
crossing the garden and I was to go to sleep like a good girl and think
no more about her.
But in the middle of the night I awoke, and Sister Angela was crying.
FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
Most of the girls were depressed when they returned to school, but Alma
was in high spirits, and on the first night of the term she crept over
to my bed and asked what we had been doing during the holidays.
"Not a thing, eh?"
I answered that we had done lots of things and been very happy.
"Happy? In this gloomy old convent? You and Sister Angela alone?"
I told her we had two lay sisters-and then there was Father Giovanni.
"Father Giovanni? That serious old cross-bones?"
I said he was not always serious, and that on Christmas Day he had come
to tea and kissed me under the mistletoe.
"Kissed you under the mistletoe!" said Alma, and then she whispered
eagerly,
"He didn't kiss Sister Angela, did he?"
I suppose I was flattered by her interest, and this loosened my tongue,
for I answered:
"He kissed her hand, though.
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