But Bessie Bell could not see anything to be afraid of: the band was playing just as gaily as ever, and the children, and the nurses, and the babies, and the parasols were as gay as ever.

"Where is your mama?" asked the lady, taking fast hold of the little hand that patted her hand.

"Everybody has a mama--never mind--"

"But where is your mama?" asked the lady again.

Bessie Bell had begun to wonder and so had forgotten to answer.

"Child, where is your mama?" said the lady again, still holding fast to Bessie Bell's hand.

"But--I don't know," said Bessie Bell.

Then the lady looked as if she had begun to wonder, too, and she seemed to be looking away off; away off, but how closely she held Bessie Bell's hand--closer than Sister Angela, or Sister Theckla, or even Sister Helen Vincula, or Sister Justina--

Then Bessie Bell began to wonder still more, and to remember, as the lady held fast to her little fingers. She began to talk her thinking out loud, and she said: "Yes, there was a window--where everything was green, and, small, and moving--but Sister Justina said there was not any window like that in the whole world--"

The lady held Bessie Bell's hand very hard, and she said--softly, as if she, too, was talking her thinking aloud:

"Yes, there was a window like that in the world, for just outside the nursery-window there grew a Pride of China Tree, and it filled all the window with small, green, moving leaves--"

Then Bessie Bell just let the lady draw her up close, and she leaned up against the lady.

She felt so happy now, for she knew she had found the Wisest Woman in the world, for this lady knew the things that little girls only could remember. If she had thought about it she would have told the lady about the tiny apple-trees with the very, very small apples on them, and other rows of apple-trees over those, and other rows on top of those, and on top of all a row of big round red apples.

Then the lady might have said: Yes, there were apple-trees like that in the world, for all the nursery walls were papered like that, with a row of big round red apples at the top.

But Bessie Bell did not think of or remember that then; she just leaned up against the lady and swung one of her little feet up and down, back and forth, as she sat on the stone bench: she was so happy to have met the Wisest Woman in the world.

The people who pa.s.sed by looked, and turned to look again, at the little girl in the stiff-starched, faded blue checked ap.r.o.n leaning up against the lady in the crisp, dull silk.

But Bessie Bell did not look at anybody who pa.s.sed.

And the lady did not look at anybody who pa.s.sed.

And the band kept on playing gay music.

It was not very long before Sister Helen Vincula came back from seeing the ladies across the long bridge, and from telling them Good-bye. As soon as she saw Bessie Bell leaning up against the lady she cried:

"Why, Bessie Bell!"

Bessie Bell said, "Sister Helen Vincula," and she knew she had done something wrong, but she could only wonder what.

But the lady said very quickly,--and she held Bessie Bell's hand even harder than before,--she said:

"Sister Helen Vincula, I must ask you something--"

Sister Helen Vincula and the lady talked a long time.

Bessie Bell did not listen very much to what they said.

She did not lean up against the lady now, but she sat close. Sister Helen Vincula did not seem to mind that.

She did not swing her foot to and fro now, but she still felt very contented and happy to have met the very Wisest Woman.

When she did listen a little she heard the lady say:

"There came news that my husband was ill in Mobile, and I feared that it was of the Dreadful Fever, and I hurried there so that I could get to him before the Dreadful Quarantines were put on. I felt all safe about the baby, for I left her with my mother and the faithful nurse who had been my nurse, too. But when the worst had come and was over,--and it was the Dreadful Fever,--then I tried to get back to my home; but I could not for many, many days, because the Dreadful Quarantines were on. Then at last I did get there--I slipped up secretly by water. All were gone. I could find no one who could tell me anything. I could find no one who knew anything. The house was wide open. There was no sign of life, but that the cat came and rubbed up against me, and walked round and round me. The Dreadful Fever was everywhere, and n.o.body could tell me anything; and I searched everywhere, always and always alone--there was no one to help me: everyone was trying to save from the Dreadful Fever--"

Bessie Bell did not know what all that was about, but she felt so sorry for the lady that she squeezed down ever so softly on her hand that held her own still so tightly.

Sister Helen Vincula wiped her eyes.

The lady kept looking away off, but still held Bessie Bell's hand in hers.

Then Sister Helen Vincula said: "We are going away to-morrow."

But the lady held fast to Bessie Bell's hand and said: "Not this little girl."

"Oh," said Sister Helen Vincula, "but she is in my charge, and so what can I do!"

And the lady said: "I cannot let her leave me--not ever."

But Sister Helen Vincula said: "Oh, madam, you do not know. No matter what we hope, we do not know--"

But the lady held still faster to Bessie Bell's hand.

"Oh," said Sister Helen Vincula, "I have a thought! Come to our cabin with me."

So they went.

And Bessie Bell walked between Sister Helen Vincula and the lady.

And they each held one of her little pink hands.

When they were at the cabin Sister Helen Vincula opened the old trunk with the bra.s.s tacks on it, and she went down to the very bottom of it, unpacking as she went. For the old trunk was almost entirely packed for the going away to-morrow. Then Sister Helen Vincula took out, from almost the bottom of the trunk, the little white night-gown that had "Bessie Bell" written on it with linen thread.

And Sister Helen Vincula laid the little white night-gown across the lady's lap.

Then the lady read the name written with the linen thread.

The lady said: "I worked this name with my own hands."

She drew Bessie Bell closer to her, and she said: "Sister Helen Vincula, can you doubt?"

Bessie Bell stood contentedly where the lady held her, and she looked first at the night-gown and then at the lady, then at Sister Helen Vincula. She did not know or care what it was all about--she scarcely wondered.

"Sister Helen Vincula," said the lady, "I know past all doubting that I worked this name. You believe that. Much more past all doubting do you not know--You must know--"