"
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.
Presently Sister Mary Rebecca, arriving, lifted her hand to knock.
"Stay!" whispered Mary Antony. "The Reverend Mother may not be
disturbed."
Sister Mary Rebecca veiled her scowl with a smile.
"And wherefore not, good Sister Antony?"
"'Wherefore not' is not my business," retorted old Antony, as rudely as
she knew how. "It may be for special study; it may be for an hour of
extra devotion; it may be only the very natural desire for a little
respite from the sight of two such ugly faces as yours and mine. But,
be the reason what it may, Reverend Mother has locked her door, and
sees nobody this even." After which old Antony proceeded to polish the
outside of the Reverend Mother's door panels.
Sister Mary Rebecca lifted her knuckles to rap; but old Antony's not
over clean clout was pushed each time between Sister Mary Rebecca's
tap, and the woodwork.
Muttering concerning the report she would make to the Prioress in the
morning, Sister Mary Rebecca went to her cell.
When all was quiet, when every door was closed, the old lay-sister
crept into the cloisters and, crouching in an archway just beyond the
flight of steps leading to the underground way, watched and waited.
Storm clouds were gathering again, black on a purple sky.
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