Tom helped Myrtle up the steps; the Sister Portress responded to their summons on the bell, and they were shown into a small parlor, from which Cis was conducted to another reception room, where a tall nun, in the beautiful white habit of her order, came to hear from her the story of this latest rescue and petitioner for her charity.
There was no question of Myrtle’s rejection. Another nun came to take her away to the infirmary, and Cis left the convent with the promise to come regularly to inquire after Myrtle, whose condition the infirmarian at once pronounced grave. Tom took Cis’s hand and slipped it into his arm; she was trembling.
“Great old adventure, splendid Cis?” he said.
“Oh, Tom, don’t talk about it; I can’t!” Cis almost sobbed. “You don’t know how wonderful it is!”
CHAPTER XXII
ENTANGLED THREADS
WHEN Tom put the key of Nan’s front door into the keyhole and swung the door open for Cis to precede him into the house, she darted forward and began swiftly to mount the stairs.
“Oh, say, Cis, hold on!” Tom remonstrated. “What am I to tell Nan?”
“Anything you like, but beg her to give me a little time to myself to straighten out my thoughts. I’m—I suppose I’m tired, Tom,” Cis paused to say, then continued upstairs, not answering as Nan called from the dining room:
“Cis, oh, Cis! Come in here a minute! I’ve just finished the baby’s new coat and pressed it. Come, see it!”
Tom joined Nan, flushed and happy over the ironing board, with baby Matt kicking and cooing in the clothes basket, liking the flavor of its edge, over which he had fallen and was chewing it.