"Maybe," answered Adam. "Ye'll be a better judge of that article than me. It was aye called the jaw of St. Lawrence in my time." "What of it—suppose it was?" said the other, arrogantly. "What good could it do any one? For my part, I care no more for St. Lawrence's jaw than for Mahomet's." "I would na speak scornfully of the jaw of Mahomet gin I were talking to a Turk," retorted Adam. "I might argue wi' him, gin I thought it would be to edification, but I would na scorn at him. I would think it ill manners." For all answer, Mr. Lethbridge tossed the relic from him, and ordered the gardener to show him the rest of the grounds. When they were gone, I entered the chapel, and having gathered my books together, I picked up the jaw of St. Lawrence, which certainly had an odd shape for a man's, wiped the dust from it, and laid it back in its place. Then, a sudden thought striking me, I dug a hole in the earth, at the foot of the great honeysuckle, and buried it; and there it may be now, for aught I know. Our services went on as usual during the day—the last day, perhaps, they would ever be performed in those walls which had heard prayers and chants for so many hundred years. It was touching to see how punctiliously almost all the sisters performed every duty, even the smallest. There were exceptions, however. As I said, we had two or three who had no vocation whatever, and they tried to take liberties, and were not ashamed to exchange mocking glances and whispers, even in the hour of meditation. Nobody took any notice of them, however, except to draw away when they came near as if they had the pestilence. I remember Sister Regina took hold of the sleeve of Sister Anne's habit to draw her attention to something, she being a little deaf, whereupon the old lady, having her scissors in her hand, deliberately cut out the place Regina had touched and trampled it under her feet. It was not a very Christian act, perhaps, but we were all glad of it. Sister Regina did have the grace to look abashed for a moment, the more that she had always been rather a favorite with Sister Anne. That evening, just before bed-time, Sister Sacristine met me in the gallery and drew me aside into the sacristy, and then into a little inner vaulted room where our most valuable relics were stored, when not exposed to the adoration of the faithful. The precious shrines which were used at these times were kept in another place, whereof the key was already in the hands of the commissioners. Shutting the door, and opening a dark lantern which she carried, she whispered in my ear: "Loveday, you are a brave girl. I remember how you faced the bull that day he got out. Will you help me to save our most precious relic from profanation?" "If I can!" said I, doubtfully. "But what is it you want to do?" She glanced round, and then whispered in my ear: