Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/51

 hard. She had no favorites, and had not even the quasi-intimates that are all conventual life permits. She secretly prided herself on her unbending nature. Had he shared her in difference all would have been well, but right here the fine, subtle irony of the situation was manifest. With the perverseness of Fate, it was on Sister Philomene that the Light of the Convent had fastened his youthful affections.

No one could understand it, and certainly the baby could not explain it. Perhaps May Iverson, a pupil at the institution, came the nearest to the kernel of the situation.

"It is the contrariness of man," she said, positively. "The infant is a flirt, even at this tender age. He is tired of the cloying sweets he is getting on all sides, so he is making love to unresponsive Sister Philomene by way of variety."

Making love he certainly was. At the first glimpse of the austere face of the nun, whose eyes were the only eyes that looked at him coldly, whose lips were the only ones that did not curve into smiles under his, the baby started for her as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. Through the convent corridors and along the garden walks he pursued her, his curls standing on end with joyful excitement,