Pausing a moment to get her breath, she seized Carmen’s hand and crept swiftly around the big house and into a dark alley. There she stopped to throw over her shoulders a light shawl which she had taken from the bureau. Then she hurried on.
Their course lay through the muddy alley for several blocks. When they emerged they were in a dimly lighted cross street. The air was chill, and the thinly clad woman shivered. Carmen, 16 fresh from the tropics, felt the contrast keenly. A few moments’ rapid walking down the street brought them to a large building of yellow brick, surrounded by a high board fence. The woman unfastened the gate and hurried up to the door, over which, by the feeble light of the street lamp, Carmen read, “The Little Sisters of the Poor.”
A black-robed woman admitted them and went to summon the Sister Superior. Carmen marveled at her strange attire. A moment later they were silently ushered into an adjoining room, where a tall woman, similarly dressed, awaited them.
“Sister,” said Jude excitedly, “here’s a little kid––you got to care for her until she finds her friends!”
The Sister Superior instantly divined the status of the woman. “Let the child wait here a moment,” she said, “and you come with me and tell your story. It would be better that she should not hear.”
In a little while they appeared again. Carmen was drowsing in her chair.
“She’s chock full of religion,” the woman was saying.
“But you,” the Sister replied, “what will you do? Go back?”
“God, no!” cried the woman. “They would murder me!”
“Then you will stay here until––”