"Father Owen would say you should do that every day," I reminded her. "You remember how he pointed out that the robin did his work in storm or sunshine."
"Oh, but 'tis much easier to work in sunshine!" Winifred cried out.
"I suppose it is," laughed I; "but that is no reason why you shouldn't try to do what is harder."
"I do try," Winifred said earnestly. "I get up the moment the bell rings in the morning--though I don't find that as hard as some of the girls do, for I was often out on the hills at sunrise. Then I'm one of the first in the chapel; and in class I study my lessons and I hardly ever talk. At recreation I don't feel much like playing yet, but perhaps I shall after a while--when I know some of the girls better."
"Yes, I am sure you will. How do you like your companions?" I asked.
"I think a good many of them are nice. But it takes me a long time to know strangers, I suppose because I scarcely ever saw any."
"Oh, they are all very kind, especially to me, because I come from so far away and have no mother! I like my music teacher best, though. I wish you knew her."
"I must make her acquaintance some time," I remarked; "I want to know all your friends."
"The French teacher is the crossest. She isn't a nun, though, and doesn't wear a nun's dress. She scolds me if I don't know the verbs or if I make mistakes in spelling. I told her the other day that I didn't want a stranger to speak so to me. The girls all laughed, but she didn't understand what I was saying."
"Just as well in that case." And I laughed, picturing to myself the little girl addressing the Frenchwoman with her princess air.
We were standing all this time in the hall, which was not altogether according to rule, as I well knew; for farewells are usually made in the parlor. But I had not the heart to send Winifred away, and the presiding Religious did not appear to notice. I fancy the nuns often strained the rule a little in her regard, taking the circumstances into consideration.
"Good-by till Tuesday!" Winifred called after me, as I stepped out into the porch; "and thank you for all the nice things you have brought me!"
For indeed I never went empty-handed to see the child, remembering my own school-days. I had visited Maillard's that afternoon before taking the cars, and had chosen from the dainty confections which so temptingly fill the glass cases and adorn the plate-glass windows. I was told that she always distributed my gifts amongst her companions with a royal generosity, often keeping but little for herself. While I was still in the porch I heard her telling a companion: