This scene is carefully drawn and the novice's garments clearly rendered, as is her look of innocence and devotion. (I just noticed her feet. Goodness, was footbinding in at the time? Kidding.) All very sentimental and even cloying - and then you notice the cat. A lean, hungry cat, giving her an appraising stinkeye: Hey, Sister Perpetua, how's about you stop staring into the heavens and make with some scraps? Cats are good at mixing the pragmatic into your day. Brings to mind an earlier post here at the Museum in which a medieval text says cats are the only proper pets for nuns. You see another sister in back engaging with one of the furry crew.