Yet many a time, just before dawn, have I heard her rapping on the cloister door; aye, many a time--tap! tap! tap! But what good would there be in opening to a poor lady you helped thrust into her shroud, nigh upon sixty years before?
So 'Tap away!' says I; 'tap away, Sister Agatha! Try Saint Peter at the gates of Paradise.

Old Antony knows better than to let you in.'" "What said the Reverend Mother when you reported on a twenty-first White Lady ?" asked the Bishop.
"Reverend Mother bid me begone, while she herself dealt with the wraith of Sister Agatha." "And why did you _not_ go ?" asked the Bishop, quietly.
Completely taken aback, Mary Antony's ready tongue failed her.

She stood stock still and stared at the Bishop.

Her gums began to rattle and she clapped her knuckles against them, horror and dismay in her eyes.
The Bishop looked searchingly into the frightened old face, and there read all he wanted to know.

Then he smiled; and, taking her gently by the arm, paced on between the yew hedges.
"Sister Antony," he said, and the low tones of his voice fell like quiet music upon old Antony's perturbed spirit; "you and I, dear Sister Antony, love the Reverend Mother so truly and so faithfully, that there is nothing we would not do, to save her a moment's pain.