So when he let the
convent gate close behind us with a loud click and said, "Now, you are
a goner," I scanned his face apprehensively, but seeing nothing very
alarming, silently followed him through the massive door which was in
charge of a white-robed nun of the Dominican order.
[Illustration: ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT AT BENICIA, CALIFORNIA]
[Illustration: CHAPEL, ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT]
Presently Mother Mary Superior and my two sisters came to us in the
reception room and my brother deposited the fund for my school
incidentals, and after a brief conversation, departed. The preparations
in connection with my coming had been so rapidly carried out that I had
had little time in which to question or anticipate what my reception at
the convent might be. Now, however, Mother Mary, with open watch in
hand, stood before me, saying,
"Your sister Georgia cried twice as long as expected when she came;
still I will allow you the regular five minutes."
"I don't wish to cry," was my timid response.
"But," she insisted, "you must shed a few entrance tears to--" Before
she finished her sentence, and without thinking that it would be
overreaching a stranger's privilege, I impulsively threw my arms around
her neck, laid my cheek against hers, and whispered, "Please don't make
me cry."
She drew me closer to her, and her lips touched my forehead, and she
said, "No, child, you need not.
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