Now she hesitated; looked around as if to make sure she was not observed, and obviously held, with her left hand, something concealed.
Moving along the cloister, she seated herself upon the stone slab in the archway overlooking the lawn and the pieman's tree; then drew forth from beneath her scapulary, the worn leathern wallet which had belonged to the old lay-sister, Mary Antony.
At the same moment there came a gentle flick of wings, and the robin alighted on the stone coping, not three feet from the elbow of Mother Sub-Prioress.
Very bright-eyed, and tall on his legs, was Mary Antony's little vain man.

With his head on one side, he looked inquiringly at Mother Sub-Prioress; and Mother Sub-Prioress, from out the curtain of her veil, frowned back at him.
There was a solemn quality in the complete silence.

No naughty tales of bakers' boys or piemen.

No gay chirps of expectation.

Receiving cheese from Mother Sub-Prioress, bestowed for conscience' sake, partook of the nature of a sacred ceremony.