ness! Listen to those birds, the chaffinch shrieking in that
aspen, and the thrush singing all his little songs somewhere at the
end of the garden."

"And there is your bullfinch, dear. He will remain in the convent to
remind them of you when you have left."

The bird whistled a stave of the Bird Music from "Siegfried," and
then came to their feet to pick. Evelyn threw him some bread, and
they wandered back to the novices, who had forgotten their
differences, and were sitting under their tree with Mother Hilda
discussing a subject of great interest to them.

"We haven't seen them united before for a long time."

"That odious Sister Winifred waiting for your death, thinking only of
her school."

"That is the way of the world, and we find the world everywhere, even
in a convent. Her idea comes before everything else. Only you,
Teresa, are good; you are sacrificing yourself to me; I hope it will
not be for long."

"But we said, Mother, we wouldn't talk of that any more. Now, what
are the novices so eager about?"

Sister Agatha ran forward to tell them that it had been suddenly
remembered that the thirtieth of the month would be Sister Bridget's
fortieth anniversary of her vows.

"Forty years she has been in the convent, and we are thinking that we
might do something to commemorate the anniversary."

"I should like to see her on an elephant, riding round the garden.
What a spree it would be!" said Sister Jerome.

The words were hardly out of her mouth when she regretted them,
foreseeing allusions to elephants till the end of her days, for
Sister Jerome often said foolish things, and was greatly quizzed for
them. But the absurdity of the proposal did not seem to strike any
one; only the difficulty of procuring an elephant, with a man who
would know how to manage the animal, was very great. Why not a
donkey? They could easily get one from Wimbledon; the gardener would
bring one. But a donkey ride seemed a strange come-down after an
elephant ride, and an idea had suddenly struck Sister Agatha.

"Sister Jerome doesn't mean a real elephant, I suppose. We might
easily make a very fine elephant indeed by piling the long table from
the library with cushions, stuffing it as nearly as possible into the
shape of an elephant."

"And the making of the elephant would be such a lark!" cried Sister
Jerome.

Mother Hilda raised no objection, and the Prioress and Evelyn walked
aside, saying:

"Well, it is better they shou