Begin at the beginning." The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun, piercing through the narrow window, fell in a golden band of light upon the folded hands, lighting up the aged face with an almost unearthly radiance.
"I was in the cloisters," began Mary Antony, "awaiting the return from Vespers of the holy Ladies.
"I go there betimes, because at that hour I am accustomed to hold converse with a little vain man in a red jerkin, who comes to see me, when he knows me to be alone.

I tell him tales such as he never hears elsewhere.

To-day I planned to tell him how the great Lord Bishop, arriving unannounced, rode into the courtyard; and, seeing old Antony standing in the doorway, mistook her for the Reverend Mother.

That was a great moment in the life of Mary Antony, and confers upon her added dignity.
"'So turn out thy toes, and make thy best bow, and behave thee as a little layman should behave in the presence of one who hath been mistaken for one holding so high an office in Holy Church.' "Thus," explained Mary Antony, "had I planned to strike awe into the little red breast of that over-bold robin." "And came the robin to the cloisters ?" inquired the Prioress, presently, for Mary Antony lay upon her pillow laughing to herself, nodding and bowing, and making her fingers hop to and fro on the coverlet, as a bird might hop with toes out turned.

Nor would she be recalled at once to the happenings of the afternoon.
"The great Lord Bishop did address me as 'worthy Mother,'" she remarked; "not 'Reverend Mother,' as we address our noble Prioress.