In the midst of Cloisterham stands the Nuns' House: a venerable brick edifice, whose present appellation is doubtless derived from the legend of its conventual uses.
Whether the nuns of yore, being of a submissive rather than a stiff-necked generation, habitually bent their contemplative heads to avoid collision with the beams in the low ceilings of the many chambers of their House; whether they sat in its long low windows telling their beads for their mortification, instead of making necklaces of them for their adornment; whether they were ever walled up alive in odd angles and jutting gables of the building for having some ineradicable leaven of busy mother Nature in them which has kept the fermenting world alive ever since; these may be matters of interest to its haunting ghosts (if any), but constitute no item in Miss Twinkleton's half-yearly accounts.
The pet pupil of the Nuns' House is Miss Rosa Bud, of course called Rosebud; wonderfully pretty, wonderfully childish, wonderfully whimsical.
The Nuns' House is never in such a state of flutter as when this allotted husband calls to see little Rosebud.
And soon the young couple go out of the Nuns' House, taking all precautions against the discovery of the so vitally defective boots of Mr.
They go arm-in-arm now, gravely and deliberately enough, along the old High-street, to the Nuns' House.
Kottayam: A top Kerala Police officer has assured a group of nuns
that the charge sheet against Bishop Franco Mulakkal, accused of repeatedly raping a nun
over several years, will be ready in three to four days, one of the nuns