“I suspected it all along, Sister,” Sister Veronica said. “In fact, I think I could have given you the names of these four girls without ever coming into this room.”

“Girls, why?” asked Sister Hildegarde intensely. “Why are you not singing along with the rest of the school? Do you think you’re too good to sing with the other girls? Do you think it’s beneath you to take advantage of Sister Veronica’s instruction?”

We knew enough not to attempt to answer; in a case like this, to answer meant to answer back, a very grave offense. Also, we kept our eyes on the floorboards; a direct gaze when one is in the wrong is evidence not of goodness but of boldness.

“You see, Sister,” said Sister Hildegarde, “they have nothing to say.”

“That is how they sounded when they were singing, no doubt,” said Sister Veronica.

Maggie Harrington gave a musical laugh and smothered it decorously.

“Well may you laugh, Maggie,” Sister Hildegarde said.

“Now let’s hear what these four can do by themselves. Give them a note, Sister.”

We took the note and set up a self-conscious but passable version of “The Spinning Wheel.”

“They sound more like Singer sewing machines than spinning wheels,” Sister Hildegarde said coldly when we had finished.

“A pity you can’t feel inclined to sing like that in class,” said Sister Veronica. She turned to Sister Hildegarde. “You see they have voices, Sister. It’s sheer stubbornness that keeps them from doing their part.”

“Now that they know they’re being watched, perhaps they’ll do a little better,” Sister Hildegarde said in a discouraging voice.

A week later, singing class came around again, and this time the four of us got into trouble over “The Rose of Tralee.” We grew a little desperate, trying to give the impression that we were singing as loudly as the others, but by now Sister Veronica was convinced that we were defying her, and no matter how red we got in the face, or how hard we breathed, she would not believe that we were not cheating. The others watched us with amusement and some scorn. They wondered why we wouldn’t sing or, if we were singing, why the nuns insisted we weren’t.