Alone, Jo sat on the edge of a hard chair and tried to believe that she was prepared for anything—or nothing, but all the time she was getting more and more agitated. When things were at the tensest she always looked the sternest, so when Sister Angela entered the room, she was rather taken aback by the face Mam'selle turned toward her soft greeting. Sister Angela was the older of the two nuns who had questioned Jo while the lost girl lay hidden under the straw in the cart that first day.
"Ah, it's Mam'selle Morey! A good day to you, Mam'selle."
"Have you found that girl yet?" bluntly spoke Jo.
The manner and question took the Sister off her guard.
"Oh! the girl! I remember, Mam'selle. We met you while we were looking for her. The child is quite safe, thank you. We have long wanted to find a good home for her."
"So you found her?"
Mam'selle was struggling with the fragments of French at her command and making poor work with them. The Sister pretended not to understand.
"The girl," Jo was losing what little control she had, "is over at my house; she's been terribly ill."
Sister Angela's face grew ashy and she drew her chair close. "And now?" she whispered.
"She's going to get well." Jo settled back.