“Hast thou ever reflected,” he asked of Agnes, “what that lily might be like which the angel Gabriel brought to our Lady?—for, trust me, it was no mortal flower, but grew by the river of life. I have often meditated thereon, that it was like unto living silver with a light in itself, like the moon—even as our Lord’s garments in the Transfiguration, which glistened like the snow. I have cast about in myself by what device a painter might represent so marvellous a flower.” “Now, brother Antonio,” Elsie broke in, “if you begin to talk to the child about such matters, our Lady alone knows when we shall get to bed. I am sure I’m as good a Christian as anybody; but, as I said, there’s reason in all things: one cannot always be wondering and inquiring into heavenly matters—as to every feather in Saint Michael’s wings, and as to our Lady’s girdle and shoestrings and thimble and work-basket; and when one gets through with our Lady, then one has it all to go over about her mother, the blessed Saint Anne (may her name be ever praised!) I mean no disrespect, but the saints are reasonable folk, and must see that poor folk must live, and, in order to live, must think of something else now and then besides _them_. That’s my mind, brother.” “Well, well, sister,” returned the monk, placidly, “no doubt you are right. There shall be no quarrelling in the Lord’s vineyard: every one hath his manner and place, and you follow the lead of the blessed Saint Martha, which is holy and honourable.” “Honourable! I should think it might be!” retorted Elsie. “I warrant me, if everything had been left to Saint Mary’s doings, our Blessed Lord and the Twelve Apostles might have gone supperless. But it’s Martha gets all the work, and Mary all the praise.” “Quite right, quite right,” said the monk, abstractedly, while he stood out in the moonlight busily sketching the fountain. By just such a fountain he thought our Lady might have washed the clothes of the Blessed Babe. Doubtless there was some such in the court of her dwelling, all mossy and with sweet waters for ever singing a song of praise. Elsie was now heard within the house making energetic commotion, rattling pots and pans, and effecting decided movements among the simple furniture of the dwelling; probably with a view to preparing for the night’s repose of her guest.