ion we set out in search of a Maternity Home. What a day
of trial we had! I shall never forget it.

The first home we called at was a Catholic one in the neighbourhood of
our boarding-house.

It had the appearance of a convent, and that pleased me exceedingly.
After we had passed the broad street door, with its large brass plate
and small brass grille, we were shown into a little waiting-room with
tiled floor, distempered walls, and coloured pictures of the saints.

The porteress told us the Mother was at prayers with the inmates, but
would come downstairs presently, and while we waited we heard the dull
hum of voices, the playing of an organ, and the singing of the sweet
music I knew so well.

Closing my eyes I felt myself back in Rome, and began to pray that I
might be permitted to remain there. But the desire was damped when the
Mother entered the room.

She was a stout woman, wearing heavy outdoor boots and carrying her arms
interlaced before her, with the hands hidden in the ample sleeves of her
habit, and her face was so white and expressionless, that it might have
been cast in plaster of Paris.

In a rather nervous voice Mildred explained our errand. "Mother," she
said, "I cannot tell you anything about this young lady, and I have come
to ask if you will take her on my recommendation."

"My dear child," said the Mother, "that would be utterly against our
rule. Not to know who the young lady is, where she comes from, why she
is here, and whether she is married or single or a widow--it is quite
impossible."

Mildred, looking confused and ashamed, said:

"She can afford to pay a little."

"That makes no difference."

"But I thought that in exceptional cases . . ."

"There can be no exceptional cases, Sister. If the young lady is married
and can say that her husband consents, or single and can give us
assurance that her father or guardian agrees, or a widow and can offer
satisfactory references . . ."

Mildred looked across at me, but I shook my head.

"In that case there seems to be nothing more to say," said the Mother,
and rising without ceremony she walked with us to the door.

Our next call was at the headquarters of a home which was neither
Catholic nor Protestant, but belonged, Mildred said, to a kind of
Universal Church, admitting inmates of all denominations.

It was in a busy thoroughfare and had the appearance of a business
office. After Mildred had written her name and the object of ou