Worldly joys must
vanish, worldly hopes decay, but Saint Zita's and Reverend Mother will
be here waiting for you."
How she longs for the peace and quiet of the old home and the comforting
touch of Reverend Mother's kind arms about her! What is it that the nuns
are singing! The "Magnificat." She listens in silence for a few moments,
then, a strange smile curving her lips, she recites in unison with the
choir:
"_Deposuit potentes de sede._ Yea, Lord, Thou hast indeed put down the
mighty."
It is not until after the voices are stilled, long after the world is
wrapped in slumber, that the girl turns from her open window and gathers
together the small store of money on the table beside her, repeating to
herself the while, slowly, half absently:
"I wonder; I wonder."
* * * * *
Another year has rolled around and again the June roses in the garden
at Saint Zita's fill the summer air with their heavy fragrance. The
convent door opens and Reverend Mother steps out into the portico
accompanied by a caller, one of the "old girls" come back to pay a
fleeting visit to the home of her childhood. The nun has changed but
little with the passing of the years, but those who love her best note
with anxious eyes the slight stoop of the shoulders and feebleness of
gait.
The visitor glances idly at a lay-sister who is busily engaged sweeping
the long flight of stone steps leading from the portico to the driveway
below.
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