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 passed by looked, and turned to look again, at the
little girl in the stiff-starched, faded blue checked apron leaning up
against the lady in the crisp, dull silk.

But Bessie Bell did not look at anybody who passed.

And the lady did not look at anybody who passed.

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 nobody could tell me anything; and I searched
everywhere, always and always alone--there was no one to help me: