Chapel seems holier than ours,--but it is no use. I will never pray
to her again, nor to St. Francis either."

"Hush! you wicked child!"

Regina rose slowly from the pavement, gathered up her apron very
tenderly, and, looking steadily into the sweet serene face of the
nun, said with much emphasis:

"What have I done? Sister Angela, I am not wicked."

"Yes, dear, you are. We are all born full of sin, and desperately
wicked; but if you will only pray and try to be good, I have no doubt
St. Francis will send you some rabbits and doves so lovely, that they
will comfort you for those you have lost."

"I know just as well as you do that he has no idea of doing anything
of the kind, and you need not tell me pretty tales that you don't
believe yourself. Sister, it is all humbug; 'Bunnie' is dead, and I
sha'n't waste another prayer on St. Francis! If ever I get another
rabbit, it will be when I buy one, as I mean to do just as soon as I
move to some nice place where owls and hawks never come."

Here the clang of a bell startled Sister Angela, who seized the
child's hand.

"Five strokes!--that is my bell. Come, Regina, we have been hunting
you for some time, and Mother will be out of patience."

"Won't you please let me bury Bunnie and Snowball before I go