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He smiles, and, turning, kneels before her in mock humility that savors of very real homage. Taking her hand, he presses it to his lips. "'Sister Anne,' you mean?" says Nolly. "Oh, ay! I have seen her, though as a rule she is suppressed. She is quite all she ought to be, and irreproachable in every respect—unapproachable, according to some. She is a very good girl, and never misses a Saint's Day by any chance, never eats meat on Friday, or butter in Lent, and always confesses. But she is not of much account in the household, being averse to 'ye goode olde times.'" "Come a little farther," he says, gently, slinging the heavy bag across his own shoulders. "There must be a farmhouse somewhere." "What is it you would say?" exclaims Mona, threatingly, turning towards him a lovely face she vainly tries to clothe with anger..