"I understand, Papa."
"Ye'll not be satisfied till ye see your daughter a whore," her mother suddenly screamed at him.
He turned swiftly. "I'd rather see her a whore of her own free choice," he snapped, "than driven to sainthood."
He looked down at Jennie, his voice soft again. "Do you want to become a nurse, Jennie Bear?"
She looked up at him with her clear gray eyes. "I think so, Papa."
"If it's what you want, Jennie Bear," he said quietly, "then I’ll be content with it."
Her mother looked at him, a quiet triumph in her eyes.
"When will ye learn ye cannot fight the Lord, Thomas Denton?"
He started to answer, then shut his lips tightly and strode from the apartment.
Sister Cyril knocked at the heavy oaken door of the study.
"Come in," called a strong, clear voice.
She opened the door and gestured to Jennie.
Jennie walked into the room hesitantly, Sister Cyril behind her.
"This is Jennie Denton, Reverend Mother."
The middle-aged woman in the black garb of the Sisterhood looked up from her desk. There was a half-finished cup of tea by her hand.
She studied the girl with curiously bright, questioning eyes. After a moment, she smiled, revealing white, even teeth.
"So you're Jennie Denton," she said, holding out her hand.
Jennie curtsied quickly and kissed the ring on the finger of the Reverend Mother.
"Yes, Reverend Mother." She straightened up and stood in front of the desk stiffly.
Mother M. Ernest smiled again, a hint of merriment coming into her eyes. "You can relax, child," she said. "I'm not going to eat you."
Jennie smiled awkwardly.
The Reverend Mother raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?" she asked.
"A cup of tea always makes me feel better."
"That would be very nice," Jennie said stiffly.
The Reverend Mother looked up and nodded at Sister Cyril.
"I’ll get it, Reverend Mother," the nun said quickly.
"And another cup for me, please?" Mother M. Ernest turned back to Jennie. "I do love a good cup of tea." She smiled.
"And they do have that here. None of those weak tea balls they use in the hospitals; real tea, brewed in a pot the way tea should be.
Won't you sit down, child?"
The last came so fast that Jennie wasn't quite sure she'd heard it.
"What, ma'am?" she stammered.
"Won't you sit down, child?
You don't have to be nervous with me. I want to be your friend."
"Yes, ma'am," Jennie said and sat down, even more nervous than before.
The Reverend Mother looked at her for a few moments.
"So you've decided to become a nurse, have you?"
"Yes, Reverend Mother."
Now the Reverend Mother's curiously bright eyes were upon her. "Why?" she asked suddenly.
"Why?" Jennie was surprised at the question. Her eyes fell before the Reverend Mother's gaze. "Why?" She looked up again, her eyes meeting the Reverend Mother's. "I don't know. I guess I never really thought about it."
"How old are you, child?" the Reverend Mother asked.
"I’ll be seventeen next month, the week before graduation."
"It was always your ambition to be a nurse and help the sick, ever since you were a little child, wasn't it?"
Jennie shook her head.
"No," she answered candidly. "I never thought about it much until now."
"Becoming a nurse is very hard work.
You'll have very little time to yourself at St. Mary's.
You'll work and study all day; at night, you'll live at the school.
You'll have only one day off each month to visit your family." The Reverend Mother turned the handle of her cup delicately so that it pointed away from her. "Your boy friend might not like that."
"But I haven't got a boy friend," Jennie said.