Moreover, without delay, her request was granted; for scarcely had she
arisen from her knees, when she remembered the place where the Reverend
Mother kept the key of her cell; and she, having locked the door, on
leaving, with her own master-key, the other was quickly in old Antony's
hand, and she out once more in the passage, locking the door behind
her; sure of being able to restore the key to its place, before it
should be missed by the Reverend Mother.

Sister Mary Antony slipped unseen past the Refectory and into the
kitchens. Once there, she fussed and scolded and made her presence
felt, implying that she had been waiting, a good hour gone, for the
thing for which she had but that moment asked.

The younger lay-sisters might make no retort; but Sister Mary Martha
presently asked: "What have you been doing since Vespers, Sister
Antony?"

By aid of the wits our Lady had sharpened, old Antony, at that moment,
realised that sometimes, when you needs must deceive, there is nothing
so deceptive as the actual truth.

"Listening to a wondrous romantic tale," she made answer, "told by the
Knight of the Bloody Vest."

"You verily are foolish about that robin, Sister Antony," remarked Mary
Martha; "and you will take your death of cold, sitting out in the
garden in the damp, after sunset."

"Well--so long as I take only that which is mine own, others have no
cause to grumble," snapped Mary Antony, and turned her mind upon the
making of a savoury broth, favoured by the Reverend Mother.

And all the while the Devil was whispering in the old woman's ear: "She
will not return. . . . Make thy broth, fool; but she will not be here
to drink it. . . . The World and the Flesh have called; the Reverend
Mother will not come back. . . . Stir the broth well, but flavour it
to thine own taste. Thou wilt sup on it thyself this night. When the
World and the Flesh call loudly enough, the best of women go to the
Devil."

"Liar!" said Mary Antony, brandishing her wooden spoon. "Get thee
behind me--nay, rather, get thee in front of me! I have had thee
skulking behind me long enough. Also in front of me, just now, being
into the fire, thou wilt feel at home, Master Devil! Only, put not thy
tail into the Reverend Mother's broth."

When the White Ladies passed up from the Refectory, Mary Antony chanced
to be polishing the panelling around the picture of Saint Mary
Magdalen, beside the door of the Reverend Mother's cell.