the occasion, the scene was one of absorbing interest. It will be remembered by those who have read the second book of the series of three which deal with the fortunes of the St. Cuthbert's students, that at this time Ambrose was a convert to Catholicism of about six months' standing, and consequently had seen little or nothing of the workings of the vast fields of practical charity within the Catholic Church. The immense Catholic charities of almost every imaginable kind which dot the land are so familiar to ordinary Catholics that they scarcely cause comment or notice. To Ambrose Bracebridge all was new and wonderful. As a waiter on the old people he did not prove a success. He did not do much serving, but spent most of his time watching the old people feasting, and the good Sisters looking after their comfort.
“A penny for your thoughts,” said the chaplain of the institution as he came up to Ambrose.
“I was thinking, Father,” said Ambrose, amid the rattle of knives and forks, “what a wonderful charity this is.”
“Yes? What impresses you most deeply?”
“The retiring modesty of the Sisters, I think, and the wonderful way they have of managing these old people.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, I am impressed with the docility and evident gratitude these old people show toward the Sisters. How is the institution supported, Father?”
“By the charity of all classes. Have you not often seen the Sisters' modest wagon on the streets? It seems to me that this one charity has touched the tender spot in the heart of the American people. Did you ever know a merchant, or a hotel manager, Catholic or non-Catholic, to refuse the Sisters?”
“Never,” replied the boy.