"There will be convents enough abroad if not here," said Philippa. "Besides, things may change here." "That is true," said I; "but from what I have seen I should think that one might be very happy in this house." "Happiness is not my object!" answered Philippa. "What I seek is a life of self-denial." "And so you mean to take your own way the moment it is in your power!" I thought, but I did not say it. At that moment, Mistress Davis returned to the room, bringing with her a pretty, pleasant-looking lady whom she presented to me as her married daughter, Mistress Margaret Hall, come to spend the day at home. I took a fancy to her directly, and we were soon chatting pleasantly together. She had some lace work in hand with which she had got into difficulty, and I was able to set her right, having served my apprenticeship to that kind of work under Mother Joanna. The convent schools did have that advantage—they taught girls to use their fingers. Mistress Hall looked over with great interest while I picked out and untwisted, showing her where she had gone wrong. "Many thanks, Mistress Loveday!" said she pleasantly, when I had restored the frame to her. "You have plenty of finger wit, I see." "More of finger wit than head wit, perhaps!" said Philippa, with that kind of smile which says—"see how superior I am." "I believe they do not often go together." "I am not sure of that," I answered. "Sister Cicely, our organist, of whom I learned music, was the most beautiful seamstress I ever saw, and people came from far and near to hear her playing." "Then you play the organ?" said Margaret, eagerly; and, as I assented, she went on—"You must come and try my husband's. He bought it at one of the convents which have been closed lately, and had it set up in our house. You must come and play for us." "I should be very glad to do so," I answered— Whereat Philippa said, with emphasis: "You are very much favored, Mistress Loveday. Cousin Margaret Hall never asked me to play for her." "I did not know that you played," said Margaret. "No, and you never tried to find out. Oh, you need not excuse yourself. For my part, I would not have such an instrument in my house—I should expect it to bring a curse upon me." "It is better in my parlor than broken up for the sake of the lead!" said Margaret, rising. "Mistress Loveday, would you not like to go over the house?" I arose with alacrity. It was just what I had been longing to do. Margaret did not ask Philippa to go with us, for which I was very glad. We left her to her own meditations, and went first up to the attic from which (the house being much higher than its neighbors) we had a very nice view over the city. I looked at once for the little, old almshouses where I was wont to go with my aunt and cousins, but I could not find them at all. "Where is the green field where the almshouses used to stand?" said I. "I am sure we used to see it from here."