“Hasn’t the Superintendent finished her dinner yet?” I queried.
“Oh, my, yes, an hour ago—I forgot to tell her you were waiting.”
I must have looked my wrath, for she went off in short order, returning soon with a tall, stern, handsome woman, the Superintendent’s assistant. This lady heard our tale calmly, looked at us critically, and told us the house was full; she was sorry, but she would give us addresses of boarding-places near by. Belle declared she could not stir another step to look for a place. At this vehemence the calm lady lifted her eyebrows, but said nothing. I must have said in my most supplicating tones, “Can’t you make room for us some way, just for to-night—we are so tired,” for she deliberated, then said, “We will go and see what Miss Dillingham has to suggest.” And she ushered us up to the office of the Superintendent.
Dark and gloomy every corner of that building had seemed that rainy afternoon, but as the door opened, a cheerful fire, and an atmosphere of warmth and ease and home enveloped us. Sitting at a desk was a stout, red-cheeked, red-nosed woman with bright gray eyes. She looked up, nodding a greeting to us, and listened to her assistant’s explanations.
“I’ve told them I don’t see how we can accommodate them,” the younger woman said, not unkindly but dispassionately. I remember admiring her stately grace as she moved about the room, but feeling from the way she closed her lips that we had little to hope from her.
“Why have you come to Boston?” queried the Superintendent as she rose and came toward us.
“We came to study medicine,” I said, and tried to explain further, when my voice gave way, and I lost the self-control I had been maintaining all day against such odds. I turned to Belle and she took up the tale, but broke down, too. Then the good soul gathered us both in her arms, held us close to her broad bosom and let us sob out the grief that refused to be suppressed any longer.
Then, conferring with her assistant, after some directions about changes, she rang for the bell-girl and told her to have room 60 prepared for us at once; they would manage to keep us that night, and to-morrow would help us find a boarding-place. She then told us the supper hour, and the time for evening prayers, and, advising us to get a nap, said we would feel like new creatures by evening.
The clean little room with its two narrow beds and scanty furniture—what a haven it was! Exploring our surroundings, and removing the dust of travel, we lay ourselves down in our little white beds and quickly fell into a sound if not untroubled sleep. We must have slept several hours. The first thing I was aware of was the singing of a hymn in a distant part of the building. It was dark. I wondered where I was. Low sobs from the other side of the room brought me to my senses. The singing made me homesick, my throat ached, my own tears started, and creeping out of bed I went over to Belle, and there we sobbed away in our misery, while those young voices on the floor above sang:
“Jesus, Saviour, pilot me