Now the obvious thing to do, Jo knew very well: she ought to bundle the girl into the cart and drive as fast as possible to the Home. But Mam'selle Jo knew that she was not going to do the obvious thing, and before she had time to plan another course she saw two black-robed figures coming across the pasture opposite. The girl saw them, too, and rushed to Jo. She clung to her fiercely and implored:
"God in heaven, save me! If they get me, I will kill myself."
The appeal turned Jo to stone.
"Get in the cart," she commanded, "and cover up in the straw."
The two Sisters from the Home were in the road as Jo bent to gather up the debris of the meal.
"Ah, 'tis the Mam'selle Morey," said the older Sister. "You were coming to St. Michael's perhaps, with your goodly gifts?" The words were spoken in pure French.
"I was coming, Sister—to—to adopt a child!"
The blunt statement, in bungling words, made both Sisters stare.
"'Tis like your good heart to think of this thing, Mam'selle Morey. Another day we will consider it."
"Why not to-day, Sister? My time is never empty. I want a boy, very young and—and good to look at."