Little Damia burrowed down beneath the bed-clothes, from which long-drawn sobs shook the bed at intervals: but she did contrive to stop screaming. Mother Gaillard left the dormitory, with another sarcastic remark on the dear delight of looking after children: and the minute after, Mother Alianora entered it from the other end. She came up to where I stood, by Damia's bed. "Not all peace here?" she said, with her tranquil smile. "Little Damia, what aileth thee?" As soon as her voice was heard, little Damia's head came up, and in a voice broken by sobs, she told her tale. "Come, I think that can be put right," saith the Mother, kindly. "Lie still, my child, till I come to thee again." She went away, and in a few minutes returned, with Erneburg. Of course Mother Alianora can go where the Sisters cannot. "Little Damia," she said, smiling, as she laid her hand on the child's head, "I bring Erneburg to return thee thy `tig.' Now canst thou go to sleep in peace?" "Yes, thank you, Mother. You are good!" said little Damia gratefully, looking quite relieved, as Erneburg kissed her. "Such a little thing!" said Mother Alianora, with a smile. "Yet thou art but a little thing thyself." They went away, and I tarried a moment to light the blessed Mother's lamp, and to say the Hail Mary with the children. When I came down-stairs, the first voice I heard in the recreation-room was Mother Gaillarde's. "Well, if ever I did hear such a story! Sister, you ruin those children!" "Nay," saith Mother Alianora's gentle voice, "surely not, my Sister, by a little kindness such as that." "Kindness, indeed! Before I'd have given in to such nonsense!" "Sister Gaillarde, maybe some matters that you and I would weep over may seem full as foolish to the angels and to God. And to Him it may be of more import to comfort a little child in its trouble than to pass a statute of Parliament. Ah, me! if God waited to comfort us till we were wise, little comforting should any of us have. But it is written, `Like whom his mother blandisheth, thus I will comfort you,'--and mothers do not wait for children to be discreet before they comfort them. At least, my mother did not." Such a soft, sweet, tender light came into her eyes as made my heart ache. My mother might have comforted me so. Just then I caught Margaret's look. I do not know what it was like: but quite different from Mother Alianora's. Something strained and stretched, as it were, like a piece of canvas when you strain it on a frame for tapestry-work. Then, all at once, the strain gave way and broke up, and calm, holy peace came instead. If I might talk with Margaret! Mother Alianora is ill in the Infirmary. And I may not go to her. I pleaded hard with Mother Ada to appoint me nurse for this week. "Why?" she said in her coldest voice. I could not answer.