Twenty little girls, all dressed in white and purple habit
, were all lined up in a row, silent as death in a dark, dank convent. They were getting ready for the day, wearing the clothing which signified them as orphans.
Of course, there were more than twenty girls in the orphanage. But not all of them were good enough to go outside and be adopted, or even be looked at. Bethebel was one of them. So she was in the main bedroom, sitting on her bedroll, idly staring at the floor.
She knew she was going to be called down to clean the soup kitchen. That was all she was good for, right? She hated it. But she was a kid; she had no friends, not family.
What could she do?