nging, I never sing," Louis yelled from the parlor.

"Mother drove me to it," Arthur howled through the door.

"I think the singin' was betther nor the shoutin'," Judy observed
leaning out of the window to display her quizzical smile.

A new spirit illumined the old farmhouse. Love had entered it, and hope
had followed close on his heels; hope that Honora would never get to her
beloved convent. They loved her so and him that with all their faith,
their love and respect for the convent life, gladly would they have seen
her turn away from the holy doors into Arthur's reverential arms. With
the exception of Anne. So surely had she become his mother that the
thought of giving him up to any woman angered her. She looked coldly on
Honora for having inspired him with a foolish passion.

"Come down, celestial goddess," said Arthur gayly, "and join the Deacon
and me in a walk over the bluff, through the perfumed woods, down the
loud-resounding shore. Put on rubbers, for the dew has no respect for
the feet of such divinity."

They went off together in high spirits, and Mona came down to the
veranda with the baby in her arms to look after them. Anne grieved at
the sight of their intimacy.

"I have half a mind," she said, "to hurry Honora off to her convent, or
to bring Sister Magdalen and the Mother Superior up here to strengthen
her. If that boy has his way, he'll marry her before Christmas. He has
the look of it in his eye."

"And why shouldn't he?" Mona asked. "If she will have him, then she has
no business with the convent, and it will be a good opportunity for her
to test her vocation."

"And what luck will there be in it for him?" said the mother bitterly.
"How would you feel if some hussy cheated Louis out of his priesthood,
with blue eyes and golden hair and impudence? If Arthur wants to marry
after waiting so long, let him set eyes on women that ask for marriage.
He'll never have luck tempting a poor girl from the convent."

"Little ye think o' the luck," said Judy, who had come out to have her
morning word with the mistress. "Weren't ye goin' into a convent yerself
whin Pat Dillon kem along, an' wid a wink tuk ye to church undher his
arm. An' is there a woman in the whole world that's had greater luck
than yerself?"

"Oh, I know you are all working for the same thing, all against me,"
Anne said pettishly.

"Faith we are, and may the angels guide him and her to each other. Can't
a blind man see they wor made