“They don’t, Señ––Sister!”
“Well, thin, they don’t––an’ mebby I’m not so far from agreein’ wid ye. But, och, it’s dead beat I am, after the Sunday’s work! But ye air a right smart little helper, honey––only, ye don’t belong in th’ kitchen.”
“Señ––I mean, Sister––”
“That’s better, honey; ye’ll get it in time.”
“Sister, I’ve just got to find Mr. Reed! Do you know him?”
“No, honey, it’s few I know outside these walls. But ye can put up a bit of a prayer when ye turn in to-night. An’ we’d best be makin’ for th’ bed, too, darlin’, for we’ve a hard day’s work to-morrow.”
It was Carmen’s second night in New York, and as the girl silently followed the puffing old woman up the several long, dark flights of stairs to the little, cheerless room under the eaves, it seemed to her that her brain must fly apart with the pressure of its mental accumulation. The great building in which she was now sheltered, the kitchen, with its marvels of equipment, gas stoves, electric lights, annunciators, and a thousand other equally wonderful appliances which the human mind has developed for its service and comfort, held her fascinated, 25 despite her situation, while she swelled with questions she dared not ask. Notwithstanding the anxiety which she had not wholly suppressed, her curiosity, naïve, eager, and insatiable, rose mountain high. Sister Katherine had been kind to her, had received her with open arms, and given her light tasks to perform. And many times during the long afternoon the old woman had relaxed entirely from her assumed brusqueness and stooped to lay a large, red hand gently upon the brown curls, or to imprint a resounding kiss upon the flushed cheek. Now, as night was settling down over the great, roaring city, the woman took the homeless waif into her big heart and wrapped her in a love that, roughly expressed, was yet none the less tender and sincere.
“Ye can ask the Virgin, honey, to send ye to yer frinds,” said the woman, as they sat in the gloaming before the window and looked out over the kindling lights of the city.
“What good would that do, Sister?”
“Not much, I guess, honey,” answered the woman frankly. “Troth, an’ I’ve asked her fer iverything in my time, from diamonds to a husband, an’ she landed me in a convint! But I ain’t complainin’.”