“Really?”
“Spike somebody’s guns,” said Bessie, with fierce satisfaction.
“I thought you didn’t believe in hospitals,” Mrs. Bradley remarked.
“No more I don’t! Taking poor little kids away from their mum and dad just because they got a few spots, and shutting ’em up till they gets the diphtheria and dies! Cruel, I call it. Ought to be put in prison!”
“Bessie happens to know of a very sad case,” said Mother Jude. “But I came to tell you some joyful and interesting news. Sister Saint Simon-Zelotes has at last finished the copies of our famous paten and chalice, and the work is to be on view.”
“That is very interesting,” said Mrs. Bradley cordially. “Shall we all be allowed to see it?”
“Surely we shall! Sister is proud of her work, and so are we all. We hope to have many visitors. An expert is being sent from the Victoria and Albert Museum, and a man is coming from Christie’s. Sister Saint Simon did not expect to finish her work until Easter, but is very happy to have completed it so soon. At Easter it will be shown to all the old pupils of the private school, and we shall put a notice in the paper to let the old orphans know that they are welcome to come and see it, too. It is a better time for noise and rejoicing than now, but as the work is finished, Reverend Mother Superior is willing to have the experts come down to see it. The originals, too, will be on view, so that people can compare them.”
“I suppose you will have the originals carefully guarded?” said Mrs. Bradley.
“Oh, yes, we shall have the police.”
“That will be rather expensive. How many do you think you will have?”
“Half a dozen, so Reverend Mother thinks. We shall not have to pay. The Chief Constable is going to send them. He does not want a big robbery in his district, so he says!”
She laughed gently and happily, and added:
“Sister Saint Benedict’s work will be on view too —those beautiful illuminated pages. And Sister Saint Cyprian’s bookbindings. We are fortunate to have so many gifted people.”
“What about Mother Saint Patrick’s fruit trees?” Mrs. Bradley enquired with great solemnity, “I regard them as no less a work of art, and one in which I had some share.”
“Dear Sister Saint Patrick! She is very proud of the orchard. She told me that you had helped her with the grafting.”
“So did Mary Maslin. We spent Saturday afternoon in handing up twigs for crown-grafting—the older trees, you know. The whip-and-tongue grafting she did by herself, I believe.”
“Like transferring of your blood,” said Maggie, with horrid relish.
“Bessie offered her blood for transfusion to Sister Bridget,”said Mother Jude, smiling at the remembrance of this kindness. Bessie scowled, and Mrs. Bradley remarked:
“You will never qualify, Bessie, as queen of the gangsters, I fear. Your instincts are purely humanitarian and Christian.”
Bessie muttered:
“Garn! You watch my smoke!”
“There is a great deal of good in Bessie,” Mother Jude remarked, when all the orphans had gone. Two went on duty to wait at tea on the guests, the others went back to the Orphanage.
“She is all good,” Mrs. Bradley replied very firmly. “And a girl of character, withal. If you felt inclined to set her free—so to speak,” she added hastily, “—I think I could get her a very good post, and one which she would like.”
“It would be a weight off Sister Saint Ambrose’s heart,” said Mother Jude simply and truthfully. “What is the situation you have in mind?”
“I have a friend who has opened, at her own expense, a small seaside home for poor children. She needs a nursemaid to take the children out and put some of them to bed and wash them, and so forth. It is not exactly domestic service, and I think it would suit Bessie well. She manages people beautifully, and is very sympathetic and kind-hearted.”
“I will ask the permission of Reverend Mother Superior. It is kind of you. Bessie is not a good influence here. Our system is not the best for one of her nature.”
“And experiences,” said Mrs. Bradley, nodding. “I should like to do something for her. She interests me and I admire her.”
They parted at the door of the guest-house, Mother Jude to go to the church, and Mrs. Bradley to write to her friend about Bessie. She read in her room for an hour and a half after that, then bathed and changed for dinner. They called it supper at the convent, but it was always a hot meal, usually soup, fish, meat and a pudding. The oldest orphans cooked it, supervised by Mother Jude and one of the lay-sisters. Two of the orphans also waited at table.
Mrs. Bradley deliberately chose a seat next to Mrs. Maslin.
“I hear you are leaving us,” she said. Mrs. Maslin looked annoyed.
“I most certainly am not leaving yet,” she said. “There is far too much to do.”
Mrs. Bradley could scarcely ask what she meant, and so she filled what might have been a pause in the conversation by remarking:
“I hear that the copies of the chalice and paten are finished.”
“Yes, so I heard. I suppose we shall all be expected to go along and admire them,” said Mrs. Maslin. “Personally, I don’t suppose I shall know the originals from the copies unless they are labelled. Will the new ones look shinier or something? One hates to appear too ignorant, don’t you think?”
