Valetta, the only one of the Clipstone family whose drawing was worth cultivating, used to ride into Rockstone, escorted by her brother Wilfred, who was in course of “cramming” with a curate on his way to his tutor, and Vera found in casual but well-cultivated meetings and partings, abundant excitement in “nods and becks and wreathed smiles,” and now and then in the gift of a flower. Paula on the other hand found equal interest and delight in meetings with Sister Mena, especially after a thunderstorm had driven the two to take refuge at what the Sisters called “the cell of St. Kenelm,” and tea had unfolded their young simple hearts to one another! Magdalen had called on the Sisters and asked them to tea at the Goyle, and there had come to the conclusion that Sister Beata was an admirable, religious, hardworking woman, of strong opinions, and not much cultivated, with a certain provincial twang in her voice. She had a vehement desire for self-devotion and consecration, but perhaps not the same for obedience. She sharply criticised all the regulations of the Sisterhoods with which she was acquainted, wore a dress of her own device, and with Sister Mena, a young cousin of her own, meant to make St. Kenelm’s a nucleus for a Sisterhood of her own invention. Sister Mena had been bred up in a Sisterhood’s school, from five years old and upwards, and had no near relatives. Mr. Flight was Saint, Pope and hero to both, and Mena knew little beyond the horizon of St. Kenelm’s, but she and Paula were fascinated with one another; and Magdalen saw more danger in interfering than in acquiescing, though she gave no consent to Paulina’s aspirations after admission into the perfect Sisterhood that was to be. CHAPTER VIII—SNOBBISHNESS “Why then should vain repinings rise, That to thy lover fate denies A nobler name, a wide domain?”—SCOTT. THE friendship with the Sisters was about three weeks old when, one morning, scaffold poles were being erected in the new side aisle of St. Kenelm’s Church, and superintending them was a tall dark-haired young man. There was a start of mutual recognition; and by and by he met Paula and Vera in the porch, and there were eager hand-clasps and greetings, as befitted old friends meeting in a strange place. “Mr. Hubert! I heard you were coming!” “Miss Vera! Miss Paula! This is a pleasure.” Then followed an introduction of Sister Mena, whose elder companion was away, attending a sick person. “May I ask whether you are living here?” “Two miles off at the Goyle, at Arnscombe, with our sister.” “So I heard! I shall see you again.” And he turned aside to give an order, bowing as he did so. “Is he the artist of those sweet designs?” asked Sister Mena. “Did we not tell you?” “And now he is going to execute them? How delicious!” “I trust so! We must see him again. We have not heard of Edie and Nellie, nor any one.” “He will call on you?” said Sister Mena.