Part 2 (2/2)
”There's a girl here wants to see you,” shouted the hunchback. ”She says she heard a scream and wants to know how-come.”
Treading lightly in the loose snow, the thin man came down the driveway to the gate. His long, brown robes were impressive, his demeanor pious.
Penny suddenly felt very foolish indeed.
”Is anything wrong?” he asked in a kindly, silken-smooth voice.
”This girl's tryin' to get in,” announced Winkey. ”Says she heard a scream.”
The hooded monk studied Penny with an intent gaze.
”You live near here?” he inquired.
”In Riverview. I was out skiing with a few friends when I pa.s.sed this old building and heard the scream. Your gateman tried to tell me it was only the wind.”
”My child, doubtlessly you did hear a scream,” the monk replied. ”It was Old Julia, a poor woman, who unfortunately sometimes becomes disturbed in her mind.”
”This isn't a mental inst.i.tution?” gasped Penny, regretting that her curiosity ever had taken her inside the grounds.
”No, my child,” responded the monk. ”Winkey should have explained. We have opened up the old monastery for the purpose of restoring an ancient order in which members dedicate themselves to a life of poverty, good will, and charity.”
”The one you call Old Julia--she also is a member?”
The monk sighed deeply. ”Old Julia is only an unfortunate whose twisted mind never can be healed by doctors. Because she had no home--no friends, I have taken her beneath my roof.”
”I see,” nodded Penny. ”I'm very sorry to have troubled you.”
”A natural mistake, my child. Is there anything else you wish to know? We have no secrets here--only serene faith and hope for a better world.”
”I might inquire your name.”
”Members of my flock call me Father Benedict. My baptismal name is Jay Highland. And yours?”
”Penny Parker. My father owns the _Riverview Star_.”
”A newspaper?” The monk's inquiry was sharp.
”One of the best in the city,” Penny said proudly.
”Your father sent you here, perhaps?”
”Oh, no! I was just pa.s.sing by and noticed the buildings were occupied.”
”To be sure,” murmured the monk. ”I trust you will use discretion in mentioning our work here. Should we become too well known, a path will be beaten to our door, and the privacy of our order will be no more.”
”I'll scarcely mention it,” Penny half-heartedly promised. ”Good night.”
Retreating through the gate, she closed it behind her.
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