The school was a large one, and consisted principally of French provincial girls, sent to Paris to finish their education. Some of them Erica liked exceedingly; every one of them was to her a curious and interesting study. She liked to hear them talk about their home life, and, above all things, to hear their simple, naive remarks about religion. Of course she was on her honor not to enter into discussions with them, and they regarded all English as heretics, and did not trouble themselves to distinguish between the different grades. But there was nothing to prevent her from observing and listening, and with some wonder she used to hear discussions about the dresses for the “Premiere Communion,” remarks about the various services, or laments over the confession papers. The girls went to confession once a month, and there was always a day in which they had to prepare and write out their misdemeanors. One day, a little, thin, delicate child from the south of France came up to Erica with her confession in her hand. “Dear, good Erica,” she said, wearily, “have the kindness to read this and to correct my mistakes.” Erica took the little thing on her knee, and began to read the paper. It was curiously spelled. Before very long she came to the sentence, “J'ai trop mange.” “Why, Ninette,” exclaimed Erica, “you hardly eat enough to feed a sparrow; it is nonsense to put that.” “Ah, but it was a fast day,” signed Ninette. “And I felt hungry, and did really eat more than I need have.” Erica felt half angry and contemptuous, half amused, and could only hope that the priest would see the pale, thin face of the little penitent, and realize the ludicrousness of the confession. Another time all the girls had been to some special service; on their return, she asked what it had been about. “Oh,” remarked a bright-faced girl, “it was about the seven joys--or the seven sorrows--of Mary.” “Do you mean to say you don't know whether it was very solemn or very joyful?” asked Erica, astonished and amused. “I am really not sure,” said the girl, with the most placid good-tempered indifference. On the whole, it was scarcely to be wondered at that Erica was not favorably impressed with Roman Catholicism.