Sister Mildred had sat down close by Jane; by bending her ear, she could do without the trumpet. Jane's hands, slender always, and weak yet, shook as she held the pinafore.
"Have you formed any plans, Jane?"
"Oh no, ma'am."
"I thought so," returned Sister Mildred, for indeed she did not see what plans Jane, so lonely and friendless, could form. "When we cannot do what we would, we must do what we can--that used to be one of your copies in small-hand, I remember, Jane."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, my dear, I don't want to speak harshly, but I think you must apply it to yourself. You can no longer do what you would: you will have to do what you can. I am sorry to say that your aunt continues inexorable: she will not shelter you again."
Jane turned to the table for her handkerchief. The tears were trickling down her face.
"We--the Sisters and myself--think it will be the best for you to take an easy place as servant----"
"As servant!" echoed Jane, looking startled.
"As servant for light work in a good family far away from here. Sister Margaret thinks she can manage this--her connections are very good, you know. Of course the truth must be told to them; but you will be taken care of, and made happy--we would not else place you--and have the opportunity afforded you of redeeming the past, so far as it may be redeemed. You don't like this, I'm afraid, Jane; but what else is there that's open to you?"