en there would be the long afternoon, when
you lay on your face on the rocks, and watched the ships sailing far
away, and now and then caught sight of a trail of smoke on the horizon,
that told you a steamer was passing by. A sound of singing came from
the convent garden, and in a moment all the five children were out of
bed, leaning out of the window, watching the long procession of white
nuns file slowly out of the convent door. The voices, low at first,
grew stronger and clearer as the procession came along the cindered
path. The nuns' white dresses, the black path they walked on, the
delicate green of the apple-trees on each side, the blue of the banner,
the shining gold of the cross, make a wonderful picture in the strong
sunlight. The children watched in silence. This singing procession of
white and blue was one of the things they liked best in May. It came
every fine morning to remind them how happy they were now that the good
weather had come. Lull said the nuns sang because May was the month of
Mary.

"Ave Maris Stella
Dei Mater Alma!"

They were singing hymns to the Blessed Virgin now; their voices, very
sweet and clear, seemed to fill the garden. They went on along the
path, paused by a black cross that marked a grave, then went round the
chapel, and the children could see them no longer. They listened till
the singing died away, and then began to dress quickly. Fly was always
last. The others teased her about it, but they could not make her
hurry. Fly had a reason for being slow. She liked to say her prayers
last. If she had been dressed sooner she would have had to say her
prayers at the same time as the others, and then, she thought, Almighty
God could not give her His undivided attention. Fly said her prayers
very carefully; sometimes when she had said them once she went all
through them again, in case she had forgotten anything. When the
others had gone downstairs she knelt down by her cot. She said her
proper prayers first, then added: "And, please, don't let any of us
have anythin' the matter with our heart our liver our lungs, or any
part of our insides that I don't know the name of; please don't let any
of us kill or murder anybuddy, or be hanged or beheaded; an', please,
remember that it's ould Mrs Bogue's turn to die first."

She rose from her knees, and ran downstairs. The hall door was open,
and the sunlight streamed into the hall. There was really no need to
say your