[Illustration:  ST. CATHERINE’S CONVENT AT BENICIA, CALIFORNIA]

[Illustration:  CHAPEL, ST. CATHERINE’S CONVENT]

Presently Mother Mary Superior and my two sisters came to us in the reception room and my brother deposited the fund for my school incidentals, and after a brief conversation, departed.  The preparations in connection with my coming had been so rapidly carried out that I had had little time in which to question or anticipate what my reception at the convent might be.  Now, however, Mother Mary, with open watch in hand, stood before me, saying,

“Your sister Georgia cried twice as long as expected when she came; still I will allow you the regular five minutes.”

“I don’t wish to cry,” was my timid response.

“But,” she insisted, “you must shed a few entrance tears to—­” Before she finished her sentence, and without thinking that it would be overreaching a stranger’s privilege, I impulsively threw my arms around her neck, laid my cheek against hers, and whispered, “Please don’t make me cry.”

She drew me closer to her, and her lips touched my forehead, and she said, “No, child, you need not.”  Then she bade me go with my sisters and become acquainted with my new surroundings.

I was at once made to feel that I was welcome to every advantage and privilege accorded to Frances and Georgia.  The following Monday, soon after breakfast, I slipped unobserved from the recreation room and made my way to the children’s dormitory, where Sister Mary Joseph was busily engaged.  I told her that I had come to help make beds and that I hoped she would also let me wash or wipe the silverware used at the noon and evening meals.  She would not accept my services until she became thoroughly satisfied that I had not offered them because I felt that I was expected to do so, but because I earnestly desired to do whatever I could in return for the educational and cultural advantages so freely tendered me by the convent.

By the end of the week I knew the way to parts of the buildings not usually open to pupils.  Up in the clothes room, I found Sister Mary Frances, and on assuring her that I only wanted occupation for part of my leisure time, she let me help her to sort and distribute the clothing of the small girls, on Saturdays.  Sister Rose let me come to her in the kitchen an hour on Sundays, and other light tasks were assigned me at my request.

Then did I eat the bread of independence, take a wholesome interest in my studies, and enjoy the friends I gained!

My seat in the refectory was between my sister Georgia and Miss Cayitana Payne, a wealthy Spanish girl.  Near neighbors were the two Estudillo sisters, who were prouder of their Castilian lineage than of the princely estate which they had inherited through it.  To them I was in a measure indebted for pleasing conversation at table.  My abundant glossy black hair and brunette type had first attracted their attention, and suggested the probability of Spanish blood in my veins.  After they had learned otherwise, those points of resemblance still awoke in them an unobtrusive interest in my welfare.  I became aware of its depth one evening in the recreation room while Georgia was home for a month on sick leave.