"I cannot tell you how grateful we are, Miss Innes, for what you have done for us. Monsignor will have told you of the straits we are in.... But you are an old friend, I understand of our convent. Mother Philippa, our sub-prioress, tells me you made a retreat here seven or eight years ago." "I don't think it was more than six years," Mother Philippa said, correcting the Reverend Mother. "I remember you very well, Miss Innes. You left us one Easter morning." Evelyn liked her plain, matter-of-fact face, a short face undistinguished by any special characteristic, yet once seen it could not be forgotten, so implicit was it of her practical mind and a desire to serve someone. "That silly Sister Agnes has forgotten the strawberry jam," she said, when the porteress brought in the tea. "I will run and fetch it; I shan't be a moment." "Oh, Mother Philippa, pray don't trouble; I prefer some of that cake." "No, no, I've been thinking all the afternoon of this jam; we make it ourselves; you must have some." The Reverend Mother apologised for having put sugar in Evelyn's tea, for she remembered now that Evelyn had said that she did not like sugar; and Monsignor took advantage of the occasion to reassure the Reverend Mother that the success of the concert had been much greater than he had anticipated.... Thanks to Miss Innes, he hoped to be able to hand her a cheque for more than two hundred pounds. This was more than double the sum she had hoped to receive. "We shall always pray for you," she said, taking Evelyn's hand. "I cannot tell you what a load you have taken off my shoulders, for, of course, the main responsibility rests upon me."