speak of her before any of the sisters, they may get you
into trouble."

When I began to get better, I had a sharp appetite for
food, and was hungry a great part of the time. One of
the sisters used to bring me a piece of bread concealed
under her cape and hide it under my pillow. How she
obtained it, I do not know, unless she saved it from her
own allowance. It was very easy for her to hide it in
this way, for the nuns always walk with one hand under
their cape and the other by the side. Truly, in this
instance, "bread eaten in secret" was "pleasant." Of all
the luxuries I ever tasted, those stolen bits of bread
were the sweetest.

During my illness I thought a great deal about my father,
and wondered why he did not come to see me, as he had
promised. I used to cry for him in my sleep, and very
often awoke in tears. St. Bridget sought in every possible
way to make me forget him, and the priest would tell me
that I need not think so much about him, for he no longer
cared for me. He said the devil had got him, and I would
never see him again. These cruel words, so far from making
me forget, served to awaken a still greater desire to
see him, and increased my grief because I was denied the
privilege.

In the room with me, were six other little girls, who
were all sick at the same time, and St. Bridget took care
of us all For two of the little girls, I felt the greatest