It will pleasure me to see thee enjoy it." Faint and thankful, old Antony seized the bowl.

And as she drank the broth, her shrewd eyes twinkled.

For had not the Devil said she would sup on it herself; knowing that much, yet not knowing that she would receive it from the hand of the Reverend Mother?
It has been ever so, from Eden onwards, when the Devil tries his hand at prophecy.
For a while the Prioress talked lightly, of flowers and birds; of the garden and the orchard; of the gift of three fine salmon, sent to them by the good monks of the Priory at Worcester.
But, presently, when the broth was finished and a faint colour tinted the old cheeks, she passed on to the storm and the sunset, the rolling thunder and the torrents of rain.

Then of a sudden she said: "By the way, Antony, hast thou made mention, to any, of thy fearsome tale of the walking through the cloisters, in line with the White Ladies, of the Spectre of the saintly Sister Agatha ?" "Nay, Reverend Mother," said Mary Antony.

"Did not you forbid me to speak of it ?" "True," said the Prioress.