while in eager undertones; then paused near
the lily bank, and one called:

"Regina! Regina!"

"She must be somewhere in the Academy playground, I will hunt for her
there; or perhaps you might find her over in the church, listening to
the choir practising, you know she is strangely fond of that organ."

The speaker turned away and disappeared in the cool dim arch, and the
remaining nun moved across the paved walk with the quick, noiseless,
religious tread peculiar to those sacred conventual retreats where
the clatter of heels is an abomination unknown.

Pausing in front of the chapel door to bend low before the marble
Mother on the shrine, she beheld the object of her search and glided
down the aisle as stealthily as a moonbeam.

"Regina, didn't you hear Sister Gonzaga calling you just now?"

"Yes, Sister."

"Did you answer her?"

"No, Sister."

"Are you naughty to-day, and in penance?"

"I suppose I am always naughty, Sister Perpetua says so; but I am not
in penance."

"Who gave you permission to come into our chapel? You know it is
contrary to the rules. Did you ask Mother?"

"I knew she would say no, so I did not ask, because I was determined
to come."

"Why? what is the matter? you have been crying."

"Oh, Sister Angela! don't you see?"

She lifted the corners of her apron where the dead pets lay, and her
chin trembled.

"Another rabbit gone! How many have you left?"

"None. And this is my last white dove; the other two have coloured
rings around their necks."

"I am very sorry for you, dear, you seem so fond of them. But, my
child, why did you come here?"

"My Bunnie was not dead when I started, and I thought if I could only
get to St. Francis and show it to him he would cure it, and send life
back to my pigeon too. You know, Sister, that Father told us last
week at instruction we must find out all about St. Francis, and next
day Armantine was Refectory Reader, and she read us about St. Francis
preaching to the birds at Bevagno, and how they opened their beaks
and listened, and even let him touch them, and never stirred till he
blessed them and made the sign of the Cross, and then they all flew
away. She read all about the doves at the convent of Ravacciano, and
the nest of larks, and the bad, greedy little lark that St. Francis
ordered to die, and said nothing should eat it, and sure enough, even
the hungry cats ran away from it. Don't you remember that when St.
Francis went walking abou