“She looks better this evening,” she said now, nodding towards the bed where Madelon lay with her eyes still closed.

“Yes, yes, she is getting on; I shall have her up to-morrow, I hope,” answered Soeur Lucie, with some natural pride in this specimen of successful nursing.

“Ah, well—­she could have been better spared though, than some that are gone,” answered the other; “but no doubt it is all for the best.  Not but that I am glad that the child is recovering—­still we shall certainly find her a great burthen on our hands.”

“It is true, then,” cried Soeur Lucie, “what I heard Soeur Marie saying—­that our sainted mother had bequeathed her to the care of the convent, and left directions that she is to take the veil as soon as she is old enough.”

“Yes, it is true enough, and, as I was saying, all is no doubt for the best; otherwise it is really a great charge for us to have a child of that age on our hands to bring up.”

“But that was just my case,” replied Soeur Lucie simply.  “I have not been out of the convent for more than six months since I was ten years old, as you know, Soeur Ursule.”

“You, ma Soeur! That was quite a different matter; every one knows what a marked vocation you had even in your childhood, and how willingly you devoted your fortune, and resigned all worldly hopes—­whereas this little one has always been the most tiresome child in the class, and, moreover, will have to live at the expense of the convent.”

“That is true,” said Soeur Lucie reflecting; “I never heard that she had any money, and of course people cannot live for nothing.”

“She has not a sou—­you may depend upon it,” said Soeur Ursule emphatically; “she brought nothing with her when she came.”

“Nothing!” cried Soeur Lucie.

“Or so little, that it must all be gone by this time.  I really do not see how it can be arranged—­Soeurs Marie and Catherine settled it with our late sainted Superior, and I think even they are beginning to repent a little, for they were talking only this morning of all the expense we have had lately.”

“Poor child,” murmured Soeur Lucie, who had no unkindly feelings towards her little charge, “there is surely enough for one more.”

“That is all very well, ma Soeur, but an extra person is an extra person, as we all know.  We might keep the child for a time out of charity, but when there is a question of her taking the vows, and living here always, it is another matter altogether.  It has not been the custom in our house to receive sisters without dots, and it will never do—­never; but of course our sainted mother knew best, and my opinion was not asked, though it might have been as well worth having as that of some others.”

“Poor child,” said good little Soeur Lucie again, looking towards the bed; “and she has improved very much lately, don’t you think so, ma Soeur?”