'You don't know, Oliver, what it is to live in a convent, and your own
sister the head of it.'

'I should have thought, Mary, that it was especially pleasant, and that
you were especially fortunate. And as for thinking that Eliza is not
wishing you to see me alone, I am sure--'

'You are sure I'm mistaken.'

'What reason could she have?'

'Eliza doesn't wish the affairs of the convent discussed. You know, I
suppose, that the building of the new wing has put a burden of debt on
the convent.'

'I know that; so why should Eliza--'

'Eliza tries to prevent my seeing any of the visitors. Now, do you think
that quite right and fair towards one's sister?'

Father Oliver tried to prevent himself from smiling, but he sympathized
so entirely with Eliza's efforts to prevent Mary from discussing the
affairs of the convent that he could hardly keep down the smile that
rose to his lips. He could see Eliza's annoyance on coming into the
parlour and finding Mary detailing all the gossip and confiding her own
special woes, for the most part imaginary, to a visitor. Nor would Mary
refrain from touching on the Reverend Mother's shortcomings. He was so
much amused that he might have smiled if it had not suddenly come to his
mind that Mary might leave the convent and insist on living with him;