e could see just small, green, moving
things, and of which great grown people had told her, "No, Bessie Bell,
there is no such window in all the world."

So in her own way she thought that maybe after awhile that the big, big
violet might drift away, away, and great grown people might say, "No,
Bessie Bell, there never was a violet in all the world like that."

It was the people--and all the people--of that new world that seemed so
strange to Bessie Bell.

There were children, and children in all the summer cabins on that high
mountain.

And those children did not walk in rows.

And those children did not do things by one hours.

And those children did not wash their hands in little white basins
sitting in rows on long back gallery benches.

It was strange to Bessie Bell that those children did not sit in rows
to eat tiny cakes with caraway seeds in them while Sister Angela sat on
the bench under the great magnolia-tree and looked at the row of little
girls.

It was so very strange to Bessie Bell that these children wore all
sorts of clothes--all sorts! Not just blue dresses, and blue checked
aprons.

And Bessie Bell knew, too, that those little girls in all sorts of
clothes could not float away into that strange country of No-where and
Never-was, where, too, the things that she remembered seemed to drift
away--and to so nearly get lost, living only in dimming memory.

These little girls in all sorts of clothes were real, and sure-enough,
and nobody could ever say of them, "There are no such little girls in
the world," because sometimes when Bessie Bell would get to thinking,
and thinking about the strangeness of them, she would almost wonder if
she did not just remember them. When she would give one just a little
pinch to see if that one was a real sure-enough little girl, why that
little girl would say, "Don't." She would say "Don't!" just the same as
a little girl in the row of little girls all with blue checked aprons
would say "Don't," if you pinched one of them ever so little.

There were no Sisters on that high mountain. Sister Helen Vincula was
the only Sister there. That seemed very strange to Bessie Bell.

One day the strangest thing of all so far happened.

One little girl called another little girl with whom she was playing,
"Sister."

Bessie Bell laughed at that.

"Oh, she is not a Sister!" said Bessie Bell.

"Yes, she is; she is my sister!" said the little girl.

"No," said Bessie