Passing through the outer gate, Mary Ursula rang at the bell, and was admitted by Sister Phoeby. A narrow passage took her into the hall. Opening from it on the left hand was a moderate-sized room, plain and comfortable. It was called the reception parlour, but was the one usually sat in by the Grey Ladies: in fact, they had no other sitting room that could be called furnished. Dinner was taken in a bare, bleak room, looking to the sea; it was used also as the schoolroom, and contained chiefly a large table and some forms. Miss Castlemaine was shown into the reception parlour. Two of the ladies were in it: Sister Margaret writing, Sister Betsey making lint. An indication of Miss Castlemaine's wish to join the Sisters had already reached the Nunnery, and they knew not how to make enough of her. It had caused quite a commotion of delight. To number a Castlemaine amidst them, especially one so much esteemed, so high, and grand, and good as the banker's daughter, was an honour hardly to be believed in; the small fortune she would bring seemed, like riches in itself, and they coveted the companionship of the sweet and gentle lady for their own sakes. Her joining them would swell the number of the community to thirteen; but no reason existed against that. Sister Margaret put down her pen, Sister Betsey her linen, as their visitor entered. They gave her the one arm-chair by the fire--Sister Mildred's own place--and Mary put back her crape veil as she sat down. Calm, quiet, good, looked the ladies in their simple grey gowns, their hair smoothly braided under the white cap of worked muslin; and Mary Ursula seemed to feel a foretaste of peace in the time when the like dress, the like serene life, would be hers. The Superior Sisters came flocking in on hearing she was there; all were present save sister Mildred: Margaret, Charlotte, Betsey, Grizzel, and Mona. The working Sisters were Phoeby, Ann, Rachel, Caroline, Lettice, and Ruth. The ladies hastened to tell Miss Castlemaine of a hope, or rather project, they had been entertaining--namely, that when she joined the community, she should become its head. Sister Mildred, incapacitated by her tedious illness, had long wished to resign control; and would have done so before, but that Sister Margaret, on whom it ought to descend, declined to take it. Miss Castlemaine sat in doubt: the proposal came upon her by surprise. "I do all the writing that has to be done, and keep the accounts; and you see that's all I'm good for," said Sister Margaret to Miss Castlemaine, in a tone of confidence. "If I were put in Sister Mildred's place, and had to order this and decide that, I should be lost. Why, if they came and asked me whether the dinner for the day should consist of fresh herrings, or pork and pease-pudding, I should never know which to say." "Sister Mildred may regain her health," observed Miss Castlemaine.