With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down any not so good street. (Dr. Seuss)
A dark shadow moved across the entrance to the alley, and the small child sank deeper into the piles of garbage from which she had been foraging for her supper. She sighed with relief as the shadow passed, and examined with interest the half-eaten hamburger she had just pulled from the debris. Her mouth watered, but she was naturally fastidious and carefully picked off the other garbage clinging to it before swallowing it eagerly.
Nothing more to be found in this pile. But as she made ready to move on to another promising looking corner, she heard footsteps returning and crouched down into silence.
“Don’t fuss so, Sister Constance. I’m sure I heard something move in this pile, and you know we promised Sister Joan we’d drop off this dry cat food for any strays we came across. I won’t be but a minute.”
“We’re already late, and we have the reading before evening meal. It’s probably rats anyway, and they’d be a fine supper for Sister Joan’s silly cats. Come on!”
A beam of light from a flashlight slid over the piles of debris in the alley, and the child was just readying herself to run when a long dark arm seized her shoulder.
“Mother of God, it’s a child! Child what are you doing here?”
The two women clad in the black habits of the nuns who ran the mission on the corner looked enormously tall and bat-like to the frightened and angry child. She twisted and kicked, but to no avail as strong arms pulled her from her hiding place.
“Saints preserve us, it’s but a scrap of a little girl, Sister Bernice. At least I think it’s a girl. She’s so filthy, it’s hard to tell. Where’re your parents, child? Where do you live?”
The child struggled and kicked the nun who held her as hard as she could in the shins, but the determined and alarmed sister hung on, pulling her toward the light of the street.
“We’ll take her with us to the mission and get her cleaned up and some decent food into her and then we’ll see if we can find where she belongs. Come along, Sister Constance, but dump that cat food in the alley before you leave.”
The second complaining sister and the resisting child were helpless in the face of Sister Bernice’s determination. Besides, to the little girl, who knew little other than that her name was Gertie and that no one was to be trusted, the promise of food was an alluring prospect. She could always make good an escape later.
Six weeks later, the strong grip of Sister Bernice once more guided Gertie against her will, this time into the kindergarten classroom of the neighborhood Catholic school. The sulky, angry face of the child did not speak well for her future success in this endeavor, and Sister Bernice sighed in forbearance. But at least the child had cleaned up well, and dressed in the drab plaid uniform of the school, she looked little different than the other children. True, she was nothing to look at, with her dark red hair braided so tightly that her eyebrows were quirked into a permanent question mark, but she was neat and clean. No one had to know that she evidently had no parents, and was only a small step away from being a complete little savage. The last six weeks at the mission had not been easy. But Sister Bernice was determined to civilize Gertie come hell or high water, and the Mother Superior reluctantly agreed. They had fed, clothed, churched, and housed her, and had been able to thwart, albeit with difficulty, her numerous attempts to escape.
Gertie was pushed into a wooden desk, in which she remained only because of the strong encouragement of Sister Bernice’s powerful arm. She angrily ignored the curious looks of the other children, and when a small hand reached out from across the aisle and touched her arm, she spat at the slender boy who offered her a greeting:
“Hey, hey, there’s no call for that! Altho’ that was a zinger of a spit wad. My name’s Neville. What’s yours?”
(to be continued)