Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk. ” “I began to be afraid you might not come at all. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns.
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