I was now really excited. She had spoken. Why should I not do something
which should make her turn her face toward me,--something which would
take her off her guard, as my forgetfulness had just done? But no idea
came to my aid, and I felt obliged to begin to dictate the details of
the odd incident, when suddenly the door opened, Sister Sarah walked in,
and the morning's work was over.
I had not done much, but I had made that nun speak. She said "Eza." That
was a beginning, and I felt confident that I should get on very well in
time. I was a little sorry that my secretary had been on the Cornice
Road. I fancied that she might have been one of those elderly single
women who become Baedeker tourists, and, having tired of this sort of
thing, had concluded to devote her life to the work of the House of
Martha. But this was mere idle conjecture. She had spoken, and I should
not indulge in pessimism.
I prepared a very good remark with which to greet the sub-mother on the
next morning, and, although addressing Sister Sarah, I would be in
reality speaking to my nun. I would say how well I was getting on. I had
thought of saying _we_ were getting on, but reflected afterward that
this would never do; I was sure that the House of Martha would not
allow, under any circumstances, that sister and myself to constitute a
_we_.
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