, over-worn and shabby. There were
flowers in vases and bowls, and, in a large cage, canaries uttered
their piercing songs.

"I like your room, dear Mother, and wish you would send for me a
little oftener. All your writing--now couldn't I do some of it for
you?"

"Yes, Evelyn, I should like to use you sometimes as a secretary... if
you are going to remain with us."

"I don't know what you mean, Mother."

"Well, sit down. I have sent for you because I want to have a little
talk with you on this subject." And she spoke of Evelyn's postulancy;
of how long it had lasted. It seemed to the Prioress that it would be
better, supposing Evelyn did not intend to remain with them, for her
to live with them as an oblate, occupying the guest-chamber.

"Your health doesn't permit much religious instruction; but one of
these days you will realise better than you do now what our life is,
and what its objects are."

So did the Prioress talk, getting nearer the point towards which she
was making, without, however, pressing Evelyn to answer any direct
question, leading her towards an involuntary decision.

"But, dear Mother, I am safe here, you know."

"And yet you fear, my dear child, you have no vocation?"

"Well, it seems extraordinary that I--"

"More extraordinary things have happened in the world than that;
besides, there is much time for you to decide. No one proposes that
you should be admitted to the Order to-morrow; such a thing, you
know, is impossible, but the white veil is a great help. Evelyn,
dear, this question has been running in my mind some time back--is it
well for you to remain a postulant any longer? The white veil, again
I say, is such a help."

"A help for what, dear Mother?"

"Well, it will tell you if you have a vocation; at the end of the
year you will know much better than you know now."

"I a nun!" Evelyn repeated.

"In a year you will be better able to decide. Extraordinary things
have happened."

"But it would be extraordinary," Evelyn said, speaking to herself
rather than to the nun.

"I have spoken to Mother Hilda and Mother Philippa on the subject,
and they are agreed that if you are to remain in the convent it would
be better for you to take the white veil."

"Or do they think that it would be better for me to leave the
convent?"

"It would be impossible for us to think such a thing, my dear child."

"But what I would wish to understand, dear Mother, is this--have I to
decide ei