"I have been very happy in this house," said Sister Barbara, with tears in her bright gray eyes. "I am so thankful to Master Lucas for bringing me here, if only that I might see what a home is like. I never knew before. When I go back to the cloister, I shall take pleasure in thinking how many homes there are in the land, and how good and happy the people are in them; and I shall feel a great deal more hopeful about the world than ever I did before." "Why should you ever go back to the cloister, madam?" asked Master Lucas. "Why should you not stay and make your home with us so long as you need one? One house is large enough and to spare, and one more makes no difference, even if you did not pay for your keeping, which you do and more too. We are but simple folk, 'tis true, and you a born lady, but yet—" "Speak not of that, I pray you, Master Lucas, my good friend," interrupted the sister. "I will abide with you for the present, since you are so kind, and we will let the coming time take care for itself. Doubtless it will be ordered for the best. I would I could find more to make myself useful." "Dear lady, don't fret about that," said Cicely. "I am sure you are a comfort to all of us. Why, the very little ones who come to the shop are ready to worship you, if you do but speak to them." "Why should you not set up a school for little girls, madam, since you are so fond of children?" asked Jack. "Hush, my son!" said his father. "Pray let him speak," said Sister Barbara, eagerly. "What were you thinking of?" "There are so many little maids about here," said Jack, "who are too young to be of much use at home, who yet are old enough to learn to read and work, ay, and to learn all kinds of mischief. Why should you not gather them into a school and teach them all the good you know?" "That seems to me a good motion," said Sister Barbara. "I used to be thought good at teaching, you know, Anne." "Yes, you were far better and more skilful than any one else in the convent, except—" Anne checked herself and turned pale. And Sister Barbara sighed and was silent for a moment. Jack guessed that they were speaking of Agnes Harland, and he sighed in his turn. "I love children and young folks so well, I believe that is the secret of the matter," said Sister Barbara, recovering her cheerful tone. "I should love dearly to have a dozen or so of the little things together every day and teach them to knit and spin, and perhaps to do white seam and cut-work. It would be helping them to earn a living as well as to be useful at home, would it not?" "It would indeed, madam; and you might teach them their religious duties at the same time." "I will talk to the priest about it," said Sister Barbara.