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Eileen explained. “With generous prizes, it says here.”
    Quickly, the two nuns picked up their raincoats and slipped through a side exit of the tent. Mary Helen hoped no one spotted them. She doubted if she had enough energy left to smile and say, “Good night.”
    Mary Helen hadn’t realized how warm the tent was until a blast of cold air hit them as they stepped outdoors. It felt as if it had come right off the Atlantic. Beside her, Eileen shivered. Although the rain had stopped, the grass under their feet was still damp and smelled of wet earth.
    Head back, Mary Helen stared up at the night sky, a welter of bright stars. Away from the city lights, the stars always appeared closer. But here in Ireland, they seemed even clearer and nearer still. Almost as if she could reach above her head and touch them. She drew in a deep breath. Ireland! She still could not get used to the idea that she was actually here.
    â€œIsn’t it beautiful, Eileen?” she whispered, still fixed on the heavens.
    But Eileen was digging in her pocketbook again.
    â€œWhat in the world are you looking for?” Mary Helen asked.
    â€œThis.” Eileen pulled out a small flashlight. “Without our torch, God knows where we’ll end up. At night, it gets as dark as pitch around here.” Eileen offered her arm. “Hang on to me,” she said.
    They had moved only a few yards away from the lighted tent when Eileen proved to be right. Carefully, they followed the torch’s beam, trying to avoid the bumps and dips in the lawn. Mary Helen’s damp feet were beginning to feel frozen.
    â€œCareful of the sprinklers,” Eileen cautioned, her flashlight picking out the round disc.
    â€œMaybe we should have used the front door,” Mary Helen whispered, beginning to feel a little panicky. The road had seemed much closer in the daylight. And it was so still. Even the band music was beginning to sound far, far away.
    She stumbled forward, still holding tight to Eileen’s arm. Wasn’t there a large drainage ditch bordering the other side of the Monks’ Table? Who would find them if they stumbled into it? She was just about to ask if Eileen was sure they were going in the right direction when she heard a low muffled growl. Goose bumps ran up both her arms. That’s all we need, she thought, wild animals.
    â€œWhat is that?” she whispered.
    â€œWhat is what?” Eileen stopped abruptly.
    â€œThat sound. Listen. Can’t you hear it?”
    Eileen shook her head, but she arched the beam of her flashlight to the right and then to the left, just in case. All they saw was wet grass. “Maybe it’s a bird,” Eileen said. “We may have disturbed a sleeping bird.”
    â€œMaybe,” Mary Helen conceded, although she hadn’t noticed any trees. Don’t birds usually sleep in trees? she wondered, and she hung tighter to Eileen’s arm.
    They moved forward several yards. The stifled noise sounded again. Louder, this time. Far too loud to be a bird.
    Much to Mary Helen’s relief, Eileen heard it, too. She swung around. “It seems to be coming from over there,” she whispered.
    Her light fell on a clump of red fuchsias that seemed quiteout of place on the lawn. Cautiously, they crept toward the noise.
    â€œWhat kind of animals roam around here at night?” Mary Helen asked, wondering if approaching the noise was such a wise idea. Maybe they should go back to the tent and get Mr. Lynch.
    â€œNot bears or tigers, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Eileen said, as her flashlight beam fell on two stockinged feet sticking out from behind the fuchsia bush. “Whatever it is, it looks pretty human.”
    The muffled noise grew louder.
    â€œAnd it sounds human, too.”
    Slowly she let the light travel up the hairy legs until the two nuns were staring down into the frightened blue eyes of a young man who seemed to be