The next day, Friday, we went out again to Holy Mass in St. James’s, having had very few people in the cellar, for all those who could possibly leave the town had already done so. When we returned, Mother Prioress announced her decision to go to the Headquarters, and set off immediately, accompanied by Dame Patrick, without even taking her breakfast. The rest of the community went about their different occupations, until she should return. Nine o’clock struck, half-past nine, ten, half-past ten, still no Mother Prioress! To say we were anxious but feebly expresses our state of mind. The shells and bombs were flying in all directions; and the explosions--joined to the firing of the guns--resembled some huge machinery with its never-ceasing boom and crash. We prepared the dinner, which consisted of salt herrings and fried potatoes; but there was no account of the Mother Prioress as yet. Each ring at the door made us crowd round in joyful expectation, but each time a disconsolate ‘No’ was all the answer we received from the portress. We recited Sext and None, but no Mother Prioress as yet! We consulted together as to what should be done. Some thought Reverend Mother must have been kept--others that she had perhaps found a motor-car, and had seized the opportunity to go to Poperinghe to see Lady Abbess. The dinner was spoiling on the fire, yet no one cared to sit down to eat. The bell rang, but we scarcely had the heart to answer it--we had been disappointed so often. We felt sure we should only hear another ‘No.’ Suddenly a joyous ringing of the little hand-bell, which had served alike to announce the Divine Office, and to warn us of German Taubes passing overhead, brought everyone to their feet, and we soon crowded round our dear Prioress to beg her blessing, asking all together for an explanation of her long absence. For greater surety we shall cite her own notes:--