The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-02-09
CHAPTER III.
THE MINIS HOUSF

to the Normans by another; and a name more
or less in the course of many centuries can be
Of little moment to its dusty chronicles.
An ancient city. Cloisterham. and no meet
dwelling place for anyone with hankerings after
the noisy world A monotonous. silent city,
deriving earthly flavor throughout from its
Cathedral crypt, and so Astounding in vestiges
of monastic graves that the Cloisterham chill
dren grow small salad in the dust of abbots
and abesses and make dirt pies Of nuns ana
friars; while every ploughman in its outlying
fields renders to once pussant Lord Treasurers,
Archbishops. Bishops. and such like, the atten-
ton which the Ogre in the story-book desired
TO render his unbidden visitor, and grinds their
bones to make his bread.
drowsy city, Closterham, whose inhabitants
to suppose with an inconsistency more
strange than rare. that all it's changes lie behind
it, and that there are no more to come. A queer
moral to derive from antiquity. yet older than
any traceabls antiquity. So silent are the streets
of Cloisterham Though prone to echo on the
smallest provocation). that of a summer day the
sunbnds of its shops scarce dare to flap in the
south wind; while the sun-browned tramps, who
pass along and stare. quicken their limp little'
that they may the sooner get beyond the con-
fines of its oppressive respectability. This is
feat not difficult Of achievement seeing that the
streets OF Cloisterham city are little more than
one narrow street by which you get into and
get out of it, the rest being mostly disappont-
ing yards with pumps in them and no thorough
fare-exception made of the Cathedral-close. and
a paved Quaker settlement. in color and gen
eral conformation very like Quakeress's bon
net, up in shady corner.
In a word. a city of another and bygone
time is Cloisterham, with it's hoarse Cathedral
bell, its hoarse rocks lowering about the Cathe-
dral tower. it's hoarser and less distinct rocks
in the stalls far beneath Fragments of old
wall, saints chapel, chapter house. convent and
monastery, have got anonymously or obstruc-
lively built into many of its houses and gar
dens, much as kindred jumbled notions have
become incorporated into many of it's citizens
minds All things in it of the past Even
it's single pawnbroker takes in pledges. nor
has he for long time but offers vainly an
unredeemed stock for sale. of which the costlier
articles are dim and pale old watches appar-
emily in a slow perspiration. furnished sugar
tongs with Intellectual legs and odd volumes Of
dismal books. The most abundant and the most
agreeable evidences of progressing life in Clois-
terham are the evidences Of vegetable life in
many gardens; even its dropping and respondent
little theater has its poor strip of garden, re-
ceiving the foul fend. when he ducks from its
stage into the Internal regions, among scarlet
beans or oyster Shells according to the season
of the year.
In the midst of Cloisterham stands the Nuns
House, venerable brick edifce, whose present
appellation is doubtless derived from the legend
of its conventual uses On the trim gate
enclosing It's old courtyard is respondent brass
plate. flashing forth the legend: Seminary for
Young Ladies. Miss Twinkletor." The house
front is so old and worn, and the brass plate is
so shining and staring, that the general result
has reminded imaginative strangers of bat
tered old beau with large modern eyeglass
stuck in his blind eye.
Whether the nuns of yore, being Of a sub
missive rather than stif-necked generation
habitually bent their contemplative heads to
avoid collision with the beams in the low CELL
ings of the many chambers of their house,
whether they sat in it's long, low windows tell
ing their beads for their modification instead of
making necklaces of them for their adornment;
whether they walled up alive in odd
angles and jutting gables Of the building for
having some neradicabe 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 ghost Of any, but con-
stitute no item in Miss Twinkleton's half-yearly
accounts They are neither Miss Twinkleton's
inclusive regulars, nor her extras The lady
who undertakes the poetical department of the
establishment at so much Cor so little) a quar-
ter has no pieces in her list Of recitals bearing
on such Improbable questions.
As in some cases of drunkenness, and in others
OF animal magnetism, there two states of
consciousness which never clash. but each of
which pursues it's separate though ii
were continuous instead OF broken (thus. if 1
hide my watch when L am drunk, 1 must be
drunk again before 1 can remember where). so
Miss Twinkleton has two distinct and separate
phases of being Every night, the moment the
I'D have frpd To
Twinkleton smarter up her curls little,
brighten up her eyes a little, and become
sprightlier Miss Twinkleton than the young
ladies have ever seen. Every night, at the same
hour does Miss Twinkleton resume the topics
of the previous night, comprehendng the ten
derer scandal of Closterham. of which she has
no knowledge whatever by day, and references
to a certain season at Tunbridge Wells (arily
called by Miss Twinkleton in this state OF her
existence 1.-The wells'). notably the season
wherein a certain finished gentleman (compas-
sionateIy called by Miss Twinkleton in this
stage of her existence Foolish Mr.. Porters'')
revealed homage Of the heart whereof Miss
Tvinkleton in her scholastic state of existence
is as ignorant a granite pillar. Miss Twin
kleton's companion in both states of existence.
and equally adaptable to either is one Mrs.
| fisher a deferential widow with weak back
chronic sigh, and a suppressed voice. who
| looks after the young ladies' wardrobes. and
| leads them to infer that she has seen better
| days Perhaps this is the reason why it is an
| article of faith with the servants handed down
| from race to race. that the departed fisher was
| a hairdresser.
The pet pull of the Nuns House is Miss Rosa
| Bud of course called Rosebud; wonderfully
| pretty wonderfully childish, wonderfully whim-
|. steal An awkward interest awkward because
romantic) attaches to Miss Bud in the minds of
the young ladies. on account of its being known
! to them that husband has been chosen for her
| by will and bequest and that her guardian is
| bound down to bestow on her that husband when
he comes of age. Miss Twinkleton. in her sem
mantle aspect OF this destiny by affecting 10
shake her head over 1T behind Miss Bud's dim
pied shoulders. and TO brood on the unhappy lot
/ of that doomed little victim. But with no bet
ter efect-possibly some unfelt touch OF foolish
Mr. Porters has undermined the endeavor-than
bedchamber cry of ''Oh. what pretending old
thing Miss Twinkleton is. my dearr'
The Nuns House is never in such a state of
| futter when this allotted husband calls 10
see little Rosebud Ut is unanimously under
stood by the young ladies that ne is lawfully
entitled to this privilege. and that II Miss
/ Twinketon disputed II she would be instantly
taken up and transportedl When his ring at
/ young lady who can. under any pretense. look
| out of the window. looks out of the window,
practices out Of time; and the French class be-
/ comes so demoralized that the mark goes round
as brisky the bottle at a convivial party in
ON the afternoon of the day next after the
dinner of two at the gatehouse. the bell is rung
Mr. Edwin brood to Miss Rosa
This is the announcement OF the parlor maid
IN cnieI -nlSs :, vi 49, VIII an eAelpiaTs
I and says: You may go down. my dear" Miss
Bud goes down, followed by all eyes
| Mr. Edwin brood is waiting in Miss Twinkle
i toms own parlor. dainty ROOM with nothing