Lentils, dried peas, eggs, and flour were chiefly what my mother used to bring to the nuns. Sometimes she baked a cake for them. Once, she brought salt, and Sister Bridget thanked her particularly, telling her that the community had been without salt for two weeks. Although the walk to the convent was long, it was not lonely. We had to cross at least two busy main streets, full of traffic as we walked along, and the way was very pleasant, with trees lining the sidewalks in front of the houses, and benches to sit on in case we got tired.

The convent and its chapel formed three sides of a square court, which was carefully tended and had a small, smooth grass lawn and bright flower beds. The fourth side of the court was on the public road and was walled off, with an iron gate through which visitors entered. The wall was very high and you couldn’t see through the gate. To the right of the gate was the gate lodge, where an old woman lived and attended to visitors who called during off hours.

Although the convent had fixed visiting hours, the chapel was always open, and people could go in there and pray any time. People who lived near the chapel used to attend Mass and Benediction there. It was a beautiful little chapel, the plainest I have ever seen, with a small, almost bare main altar flanked by two tall statues of nuns — Saint Clare on the left as you knelt facing the altar, and Saint Camillus on the right. Both saints wore the brown habit of the Poor Clares. To the right of the altar, a great grille was set into the wall, and through this grille the nuns used to witness Mass and receive Benediction, and through the grille people kneeling in the chapel could hear their voices answering the prayers and singing the Benediction hymns.

One Sunday afternoon, my mother took me to Benediction there. I watched the altar and listened to the voices of the nuns, but my real attention was given to a small old woman kneeling in the seat ahead of me. This old woman, dressed in black, had her head half turned, so that I could see her face, and she was listening to the voices from behind the grille with such concentration that she appeared desperate, her eyes wide open and her mouth working along with the words.