One day shortly after my advent in the home I had occasion to reprimand
her. She turned on me with such language and so evil, so distressing an
expression as to shock and grieve me terribly. Presently the dear Lord
gained a glorious victory. I hunted her up; for, in her anger, she had
gone into hiding, and, putting my arms about her, lovingly implored her
to forgive, as I had not intended to offend or in any way remind her of
her dreadful past. From that time on we were great friends. Before long
she confided to me her troubles, past and present.

Her people were poor and proud, and she did not take kindly to her
environments either at home or at school, and did not go quite through
the grammar grades. Her mother, from whom she inherited her temper,
frequently quarreled with her and also disparaged her. At the age of
fifteen, partly because of her restlessness and partly because of her
desire to earn money, for she would no longer go to school, she, being
quite a tall, well-developed girl, procured a situation as waitress in
a wealthy family near her home in the city of San Francisco. She was a
Catholic. Because of her duties, she attended early mass. One Sunday
morning, whilst she was returning from church, her prayer-book
accidentally slipped out of her hand. Upon stooping to pick it up, she
discovered that she was forestalled by a well-dressed gentleman (?),
who handed it to her with an admiring look and most respectful bow.
Raising his hat, he politely passed on.

As Leila never expected to see him again, imagine her astonishment at
meeting him the following Sunday, when again, with a glance of
recognition, which flattered this poor victim, he most respectfully
raised his hat. The third Sunday the same thing occurred again, but now
instead of passing by, he politely accosted her with words to this