Vow of Chastity Read Online Free Page B

muddled up with the paper. Conrad, it was thoughtful of you to explain why you didn’t hand in any work, but the explanation won’t do. This week I shall be telling you about Sir Philip Sidney who was a very brave soldier and a poet – also married. Madelyn, your work was very neat but you copied the poem from a book, didn’t you?’
    ‘No, Sister.’ The blue eyes were limpid. ‘David copied it and then he read it to me.’
    ‘You both copied the same poem? Then where is David’s work?’
    ‘We didn’t want to hand in two the same, Sister, in case you got bored,’ David said pedantically, ‘so I tore the pages out of my book.’
    ‘Logical, I suppose,’ Sister Joan said, ‘but in future I’d like you both to work by yourselves and try to compose something of your own.’
    The twins, unable to contemplate a separate mental existence, stared back at her blankly.
    ‘Timothy, your drawing was very good though it wasn’t quite what I’d asked for.’ Sister Joan nodded at the child pleasantly. He had drawn what he saw, neatly and unimaginably dully, but she had a soft place in her heart for those who expressed themselves in paint rather than words. Tabitha had also sent in a drawing – less neat and accurate but infinitely more colourful.Edith hadn’t sent anything in. She told her gently that she must try to do the homework, aware that any harsher scolding would bring the tears flooding to the little girl’s sloe-black eyes, and spoke rather more sharply to Hagar about her failure to do the set task, knowing that her words were making no impression upon the girl at all. Hagar merely smiled, one side of her full mouth curving in mute contempt, as Conrad said quickly and loyally, ‘Hagar don’t mean to be lazy, Sister. She has lots to do at ’ome – washing and cooking and the like, and she needs time to enjoy.’
    To enjoy what? Sister Joan thought, her eye measuring the jut of budding breasts. There was something in Hagar’s scornful little smile that hinted at pity for herself. She wanted to shake the child, to inform her roundly that the religious life didn’t unsex anyone, but Hagar wouldn’t have understood.
    ‘Try to enjoy doing a little homework occasionally,’ she advised. ‘Billy, one of these days you are going to astonish us all by actually doing some homework. Could you make it soon?’
    ‘Can we write about something else next time?’ Billy asked promptly.
    ‘This coming week you can all write – write not draw – a few sentences about the person you admire most – admire means wanting to be like them, Edith. Just a few words, of your own and not copied.’
    ‘Alive or dead?’ Billy enquired with as much interest as if he were actually going to do the homework.
    ‘Whichever you like,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Samantha, did you read the poem you sent somewhere in a book?’
    ‘No, Sister.’ The voice was neat and precise.
    ‘It was – unusual,’ Sister Joan said cautiously. ‘Nicely written and spelled, if a bit – morbid. Perhaps you should try to write happier pieces?’
    ‘Yes, Sister.’ The green eyes held her own blue ones for a moment and then were lowered.
    ‘So!’ Mentally resolving to look more closely into the child’s home background Sister Joan spoke brightly, telling herself that cheerfulness was contagious. Andthat, she realized abruptly, was the trouble. Her pupils who generally exasperated her for half of the time were simply too quiet, too solemn, too attentive. She held the realization at the back of her mind while she outlined the week’s projects. One of her most difficult tasks lay in welding together a group of children between the ages of six and thirteen into a class following roughly the same curriculum. Nature walks, talks about events that the older ones would have read in the newspapers, opportunities for them to express themselves in drawing or singing, all these took precedence over formal lessons though she took care to include some of