"Are there so many dead in the village?" asked Mother Gertrude.
"There is not a house where there is or hath not been one dead!" answered Magdalen; "And the terror is worse than the pestilence; children are deserted by parents, and they in their turn by children, and 'tis the same with all other relations. 'Tis a woeful spectacle!"
"Could not you yourself take these poor babes to your home, since you have one?" asked Mother Gertrude.
"I cannot be spared, madam," answered Magdalen: "I must nurse the sick."
"That is very good in you, and you must take comfort in the thought that you are thereby laying up merit for yourself!" said Mother Superior.
I saw an odd expression pass over Magdalen's face, but she made no reply.
"And you think we might take these babes and care for them, at least till the present emergency is passed?" said Mother.
"Nay, madam, I did but state the case to you," answered Magdalen; "'tis not for me to presume to offer advice."
"But what to do with them, if we took them?" said Mother Superior, in a musing tone. Then catching my eye, which I suppose ought to have been on the floor instead of on her face: "Here is Rosamond, with a ready-made plan, as usual. Well, child, you have permission to speak. What is brewing under that eager face?"
"I was thinking, dear Mother, that I am used to young children," said I. "Why could I not take these little maids into one of the rooms called the Queen's room, and tend them there? I suppose there are not many of them."