She lifted the corners of her apron where the dead pets lay, and her
chin trembled.

"Another rabbit gone! How many have you left?"

"None. And this is my last white dove; the other two have coloured
rings around their necks."

"I am very sorry for you, dear, you seem so fond of them. But, my
child, why did you come here?"

"My Bunnie was not dead when I started, and I thought if I could only
get to St. Francis and show it to him he would cure it, and send life
back to my pigeon too. You know, Sister, that Father told us last
week at instruction we must find out all about St. Francis, and next
day Armantine was Refectory Reader, and she read us about St. Francis
preaching to the birds at Bevagno, and how they opened their beaks
and listened, and even let him touch them, and never stirred till he
blessed them and made the sign of the Cross, and then they all flew
away. She read all about the doves at the convent of Ravacciano, and
the nest of larks, and the bad, greedy little lark that St. Francis
ordered to die, and said nothing should eat it, and sure enough, even
the hungry cats ran away from it. Don't you remember that when St.
Francis went walking about the fields, the rabbits jumped into his
bosom, because he loved them so very much? You see, I thought it was
really all true, and that St. Francis could save mine too, and I
carried 'Bunnie' and 'Snowball' to him--out yonder, and laid them on
his feet, and prayed and prayed ever so long, and while I was praying
my 'Bunnie' died right there. Then I knew he could do no good, and I
thought I would try our Blessed Lady over here, because the Nuns'