thing kind
of homelike in the name itself. And that's the very difference between
your church and the other churches. The Protestant church seems real
lonesome, like a sort of bachelor's hall. The Catholic church makes you
feel at home, because there's always a mother in the house."

"Take care!" exclaimed the priest. "But I am sure you don't mean to be
irreverent, my friend. And about your generosity to the orphans. Here,
let me give the money back. I am in earnest in asking you to give it to
the Sisters with your own hands. When they see you and you see them, you
will both understand each other better than if I were to try ever so
long and hard to explain."

He looked at Tommy Dye for a moment with a returning smile, but the pity
of it all put the humor aside.

"The doctor will be coming along in a moment--ah, there he comes now! I
will ask him to go with you to see the Sisters. I am sorry that I cannot
turn back with you myself. I should be glad to."

It did not take long to state the case to the doctor, who readily agreed
to do what the priest asked. Tommy Dye was by this time so thoroughly
cowed by the situation in which he thus found himself that he no longer
resisted. There was one uncertain instant when, seeing the Sisters
appear in the door, he was undecided whether to run away or go on. But
he was afraid to flee, with the Sisters' eyes upon him, and the doctor
led him into the house. The ladies had been frightened by the doctor's
unexpected and speedy return; but he soon quieted their fears, and made
them happy by telling them the reason of his turning back. Sister
Teresa, the Lady Superior, keenly touched, quickly turned to Tommy Dye
and he handed her the money in awkward haste.

"How good of you! How generous--how noble! Ah, you don't know how much
good this will do," she said, with her eyes full of tears. "We thank you
with all our hearts for ourselves and for the children."

"Thank _you_,--ma'am," stammered Tommy Dye, scarlet, and almost dumb.

None of the many sins of which he had been suspected had ever made him
feel nearly so uncomfortable as he felt now. None of the many sins of
which he had been convicted had ever made him look half so guilty as he
looked now.

"You mustn't call me 'ma'am,'" said Sister Teresa. "You must call me
Sister, and Sister Elizabeth and Sister Angela are your sisters, too.
You must always think of us as your real sisters, and the little ones
belong to you after this,