"Now that is just what I should like," said Sister Philippa. "I never get it, worse luck!" "Did you mean me, Sister Margaret?" said Sister Ada, stiffly. "I cry you mercy, Mother; I was not thinking of you at all," answered Margaret. "It sounded very much as if you were," said Sister Ada, in her iciest fashion. "I think, if you had been anxious for perfection, you would not have answered me in that proud manner, but would have come here and entreated my pardon in a proper way. But I am too humble-minded to insist on it, seeing I am myself the person affronted. Had it been any one else, I should have required it at once." "I said--" Margaret got so far, then her brow flushed, and I could see there was an inward struggle. Then she rose from the form, and laying down her work, knelt and kissed the ground at Mother Ada's feet. I could hear Sister Roberga whisper to Sister Philippa, "That mean-spirited fool!" Sister Gaillarde said in a softer tone than is her wont,--"_Beati pauperes spiritu: quoniam ipsorum est regnum caelorum_." [Matthew 5, verse 3.] "Thank you, Sister Gaillarde," said Sister Ada, quickly. "I scarcely expected recognition from _you_." "You got as much as you expected, then," said Sister Gaillarde, drily, with a look across at me which almost made me laugh. "I told you, I got more than I expected," was Sister Ada's answer. "Did you mean it for her?" asked Joan, in so low a voice that only those on each side of her could hear. "I meant it for whoever deserved it," was Sister Gaillarde's reply. Just then Mother Joan came in and sat down. "Sister Ada," she said, "Sister Marian tells me, that my Lady has given orders for that rough black rug that nobody likes to be put on your bed this week." "No, has she?" cried Sister Ada, in tones which, if she were delighted, very much belied her feelings. "How exceedingly annoying! What could my Lady be thinking of? She knows how I detest that rug. I shall not be able to sleep a wink. Well! I suppose I must submit; it is my duty. But I do feel it hard that _all_ the disagreeable things should come to me. Surely one of the novices might have had that; it would have been good for somebody whose will was not properly mortified. Really, I _do_ think--Oh, well, I had better not say any more." Nor did she: but that night, as I was going round the children's dormitory, little Damia looked up at me. "Mother, dear, what's the matter with Mother Ada?" "What did she say, my child?" "Oh, she didn't say any thing; but she has looked all day long as if she would like to hit somebody." "Somebody vexed her a little, perhaps," said I. "Very likely she will be all right to-morrow."