"
"Never mind the leaves, I will gather them for you. Take my spade and
dig a little while. It is pleasanter being in the open air than in
that hot sacristy."
"But I don't know how to dig. You'll only laugh at me."
"No, no. See, here is a bed of spring onions, and it wants digging
out. You press the spade in as far as you can, pull down the handle,
and lift out the earth. I shall be some little while away, and I
expect you will have dug some yards. You can dig as far as this. Try,
Evelyn, make up your mind that you will; if you make up your mind,
you will succeed."
Evelyn promised.
"But you won't stay a long time, will you?" she called after the nun.
"Now I know why Sister Mary John wears men's boots." And she stooped
to pin up her skirt.
All the while the sky was clearing, the wind drove the clouds
westward, breaking up the dark masses, scattering, winnowing, letting
the sun through. Delicious was the glow, though it lasted but for a
few minutes--perhaps more delicious because it was so transitory.
Another patch of wind-driven clouds came up, and the world became
cold and grey again. A moment afterwards the clouds passed, the sun
shone out, and the delicious warmth filled mind and body with a
delight that no artificial warmth could; and, to enjoy the glowing of
the sun, Evelyn left her digging, and wandered away through the
garden, stopping now and then to notice the progress of the spring.
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