Carmen passed Sister Agatha, the latter laid her hand on the girl's
shoulder, saying gravely, but not unkindly:

"Dear Sister, I would like to speak with you; on your return from the
love-feast which we celebrate this evening, come to my room, and I will
have a talk with you."

Carmen looked calmly into the serious eyes of the speaker, where she
read no small degree of secret dissatisfaction.

"Yes, Sister Agatha, I will come."

* * * * * *

No apartment could be more simply furnished than that of Sister Agatha.
It seemed as if she wished to excel in her avoidance of anything like
unnecessary ornament or comfort. Three chairs, a table, an
old-fashioned sofa, a writing-desk, and a chest of drawers formed the
scanty furniture. The walls were whitewashed and bare, while at the
windows were hung plain white curtains. Above the desk was placed the
solitary ornament of the room, the watchword for the day. These
"watchwords" are texts of Scripture printed on cards, one for each day
in the year, and distributed to every member of the settlement, so that
all may meditate upon it, and guide their daily lives by its precepts.

Sister Agatha sat at one of the windows; and with her, his chair drawn
back into the shadow, out of the bright afternoon sunshine, sat Brother
Jonathan Fricke, talking in his calmest and most deliberate manner, "It
seems to me, dear Sister, that the healthy give you more anxiety than
the sick."