Mother Catherine had changed very little with passing time. Her tranquil azure eyes had lost none of their fiery compassion, none of their grave and sweet comprehension. By half-past three when Nancy arrived at the convent a dusk heavy with unladen snow was creeping over the moor, and the candles were already lighted in the Reverend Mother’s parlour. “I have been so distressed over Letizia’s behaviour,” said Nancy. “I cannot think what happened to her last spring.” “Don’t upset yourself about her, my dear child,” Mother Catherine replied, patting Nancy’s hand. “She is quite herself again now, and in any case it was really nothing more than the normal exuberance of youth. Frankly, I am pleased to find her relatively much younger now than she was before she went to Belgium.” “But I was so shocked at her apparent ingratitude,” Nancy sighed. Mother Catherine shook her head. “She is not ungrateful. You must remember that she has been at school many, many years now. I can easily understand that St. Joseph’s must be seeming irksome, and that is one of the reasons why I am glad to have this chance of talking over with you a plan that is in my mind. I must tell you that dear Mother Mary Ethelreda left the Community very well endowed, and there is a fund set apart for the benefit of any girls who show any kind of artistic promise. They are to be helped to achieve their ambition, no matter what it may be. As you know, Letizia has definitely made up her mind to go on the stage....” “She has not said so to me,” Nancy interrupted. “Well, that of course is just what you would expect. Parents and teachers must always expect to be suddenly confronted with the inexplicable reserve of the young. Just as she wrote you a full account of that foolish business with Enid Wilson and Joan Hutchinson, so she has given me her confidence about her career. I fancy that the instinct to entrust a secret to an outsider is a normal one. You would be expected to regard her theatrical hopes with a professional eye just as I should be expected to regard her escapades with a professional eye.” Nancy nodded her agreement with this. “Very well,” Mother Catherine went on, “if Letizia is going on the stage it is important that she should now concentrate on deportment, elocution, dancing, singing, and all the graces that will adorn her vocation. Another of our pupils longs to paint, and another who shows signs of having a really lovely voice wishes to become a singer. I propose to send these three young cousins of the Muses for a couple of years to Italy with a _dame de compagnie_. Thus each one will be able to study what will most help her afterwards.” “To Italy!” Nancy exclaimed. “I don’t think Letizia will ever have a voice as good as her mother’s,” the nun said, with a smile. “And that reminds me, will you sing _Adeste Fideles_ for us at the midnight Mass?”