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That night, Sister Maria Felicia had been unable to sleep. Other children, not so fortunate as the schoolboys, kept coming to mind. She had seen them in the street. The poor children, those with ragged clothing torn by the wind, those with hollow cheeks and eyes that did not sparkle but instead looked out dully onto a cruel world—those she could not forget. Just before she finally fell asleep, she thought of St. Nicholas. And Sister Maria Felicia began to plan.
And now, it was time for that plan!
She heard footsteps and soft voices of the other sisters in the hallway. Soon the room was filled with happy workers.
Conversation and laughter mingled as some sisters sewed the cloth into bags and others stuffed the bags with oranges and nuts. Sister Maria Felicia moved slowly, for her ancient bones permitted no more quick movements. But tonight, tingling with excitement, she almost felt young again.
When the bags were finished, all the sisters pulled on cloaks—everyone Sister Maria Felicia. The others looked at her with a bit of sadness, for this had been her idea.
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