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"What is her age?" she asked, whereupon Father Dan said he thought I
would be eight that month, which was right, being October.
"Small, isn't she?" said the lady, and then Father Dan said something
about poor mamma which I cannot remember.
After that they talked about other things, and I looked at the pictures
on the walls--pictures of Saints and Popes and, above all, a picture of
Jesus with His heart open in His bosom.
"The child will be hungry," said the lady. "She must have something to
eat before she goes to bed--the other children have gone already."
Then she rang a hand-bell, and when the first lady came back she said:
"Ask Sister Angela to come to me immediately."
A few minutes later Sister Angela came into the room, and she was quite
young, almost a girl, with such a sweet sad face that I loved her
instantly.
"This is little Mary O'Neill. Take her to the Refectory and give her
whatever she wants, and don't leave her until she is quiet and
comfortable."
"Very well, Mother," said Sister Angela, and taking my hand she
whispered: "Come, Mary, you look tired.


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