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By some mysterious instinct of their sex the girls had gathered with
glistening eyes in front of the chaplain's deserted quarters, where Alma
leaned against the wall with her insteps crossed and while the others
talked she smiled, as much as to say, "I told you so."
As for me I was utterly wretched, and being now quite certain that I was
the sole cause of Sister Angela's misfortune, I was sitting under the
tree in the middle of the garden, when Alma, surrounded by her usual
group of girls, came down on me.
"What's this?" she said. "Margaret Mary crying? Feeling badly for Sister
Angela, is she? Why, you little silly, you needn't cry for her. She's
having the time of her life, she is!"
At this the girls laughed and shuddered, as they used to do when Alma
told them stories, but just at that moment the nun with the stern face
(she was the Mother of the Novices) came up and said, solemnly:
"Alma Lier, the Reverend Mother wishes to speak to you."
"To me?" said Alma, in a tone of surprise, but at the next moment she
went off jauntily.


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