And another one with them said: "Impossible! But strange indeed—"
Bessie Bell did not notice what the ladies said, but because they looked so attentively to where she sat on the stone bench her attention was turned the way their eyes turned as they talked in low tones and looked attentively passing by.
So when they had passed by, Bessie Bell turned and looked to the other end of the bench where the lady sat.
Bessie Bell was so surprised at the first look that she hardly knew what to think.
The lady did not look like Sister Helen Vincula, oh, not at all; but the veil that she wore was soft and black like that that Sister Helen Vincula wore. The dress that the lady wore was black also, but it looked as if it were stiff and very crisp, and not soft like the dress that Sister Helen Vincula wore. Bessie Bell did not mean to be rude, but she reached out one tiny hand and took hold of the lady's dress, just a tiny pinch of it.
Yes, it was very crisp.
Then the lady turned and looked at Bessie Bell.
Then Bessie Bell was still more surprised, for there was something white under her veil. Not white all round the face like that Sister Helen Vincula wore, but soft crinkly white just over the lady's soft yellow hair.
Also on the breast of her black dress was a cross, but not white like the cross that Sister Helen Vincula wore. No, this cross was shining very brightly, and it was very golden in the sunlight,—and—somehow, somehow,—Bessie Bell knew just how that cross felt,—she knew without feeling it. She did not have to feel it as she had felt the dress.
Bessie Bell looked and thought. She thought this lady looked like a Sister—and yet there was a difference. She looked also like Just-A-Lady, and she also looked grand and important enough for a Mama.