“And we are so pleased they could come with us,” Erma continued, seemingly unable to let the matter drop. Linking her arms through the nuns’ arms, she gave each a little squeeze.

Mary Helen squeezed back and she suspected Eileen had too.

Good old Erma Duran! Mary Helen couldn’t help calling her that and smiling whenever she did. Watching her now, grinning happily at an astonished Mrs. Taylor-Smith, Mary Helen found it hard to believe that it had been fifty years since the two of them had first met at Mount St. Francis College. It was in the late thirties and they were both taking a history course during summer session. Erma, then Erma McSweeney, was a bouncy, curly-haired student and Mary Helen was a young nun.

They had been assigned a joint history project and had worked together famously. Although Mary Helen remembered feeling a little guilty at the time. Erma seemed to be doing most of the work. Not that Mary Helen was a slouch. But even then she had known there is a certain amount of virtue in letting others do for you. It makes them happy and Erma McSweeney had seemed genuinely happy.

In spite of the fact that she hadn’t seen or heard from Erma since, except for an occasional Christmas card, Mary Helen had recognized her immediately when they met a year or so ago at the annual alumnae tea.

The curly hair was no longer rich brown but wiry and graying. The middle had widened an inch or two and a double chin had been added to the round face. But the trusting brown eyes, though a little myopic, were exactly as she remembered them, and not even time had changed that warm, ready smile. Mary Helen was delighted to have the opportunity to renew their friendship.

In fact, not long after they became reacquainted, it was Erma who had introduced Mary Helen and Eileen to the OWLs.