Hence it happened that though home made a certain tug at me, with its
familiar sights and sounds, and more than once I turned with timid steps
towards my father's busy room, intending to say, "Please, father, don't
send me back to school," I made no demur when, six or seven days after
the funeral, Aunt Bridget began to prepare for my departure.
"There's odds of women," said Tommy the Mate, when I went into the
garden to say good bye to him "They're like sheep's broth, is women. If
there's a head and a heart in them they're good, and if there isn't you
might as well be supping hot water. Our Big Woman is hot water--but
she'll die for all."
Within a fortnight I was back at the Convent, and there the Reverend
Mother atoned to me for every neglect.
"I knew you would come back to me," she said, and from that hour onward
she seemed to be trying to make up to me for the mother I had lost.
I became deeply devoted to her. As a consequence her spirit became my
spirit, and, little by little, the religious side of the life of the
Convent took complete possession of me.
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