ed with His Faithful in the Body
of Christ.... Never let me hear you say that again!"

"Mother, I promise you, you never shall. But I had a dream last night that
was most vivid and strange and awful. It has haunted me ever since."

The Mother-Superior started, for she also had had a strange dream. Of that
vision had been born the written letter that now lay under the quartz
paper-weight--the letter that was to be sent, with others, by the next
English mail that should go out from Gueldersdorp, which said mail, being
intercepted by the Boers, was not for many months to reach its
destination. Supposing it had, this story need never have been written,
or else another would have been written in its place.

"Dear heart, I do not think that it is good or useful to brood upon such
things, or to relate them. And the Church forbids us to take account of
mere dreams, or in any way be swayed by them."

"That has always puzzled me. Because, you know ... supposing St. Joseph
had refused to credit a dream?..."

"There are dreams and dreams, my dear. And the heavenly visions of the
Saints are not to be confounded with our trivial subconscious memories.
Besides, sweets and fruits and pastry consumed in the seniors' dormitory
at night are not only an infringement of school rules, but an insult to
the digestion."

"Mother, how did you find out?" cried Lynette. There was something very
like a dimple in the bleached olive of the sweet worn cheek, lurking near
the edge of the close coif, and a twinkle of laughter in the deep grey
eyes that you thought were black until you had learned better.

"Well, though you may not find it easy to believe, I was once a girl at a
boarding-school, and I possibly remember how we usually celebrated a
breaking-up. There is the washing-bell; the pupils' tea-bell will ring
directly; you must hurry, or you will be late. One moment. What of this
unpleasant incident that took place during the afternoon walk yesterday?
Sister Cleophee and Sister Francis-Clare have not given me a very definite
account."

Lynette's fair skin flushed poppy-red.

"Mother, they hooted us on the road to the Recreation Ground."

Upon the great brows of the Mother-Superior sat the majesty of coming
tempest. Her white hand clenched, her tone was awfully stern:

"Who were 'they'?"

"Some drunken Boers and store-boys--at least, I think they were drunk--and
some Dutch railway-men. They cried shame on the Dutch girls for learning