The windows of the kitchen were of ground glass. They were made to let
down at the top, but could not be raised at the bottom.
When they were let down, I noticed that the younger women, if I were out
of the way a moment, sprang upon the window-seat, which was a deep
recess, and stood looking out. I inferred from the manner of doing it,
and the apprehensive look they gave me, when detected, that it was
breaking the rules to do so.
But no one informed me of such a rule, and I did not think it necessary
to inquire. I could see no possible harm that could come to them from
looking through the bars upon the grass, and trees, and flowers of the
grounds. Positive good might arise from changing the tenor of their
thoughts. If they stood longer than I thought best, I sent them to do
something for me.
One day, Annie O'Brien had mounted the window-seat, in my absence from
the kitchen, and when I went back, was exercising her powers of
description upon what she saw, for the entertainment of the others.
The window through which she was looking, commanded a view of the yard,
the office, and the walk through which the public found entrance to the
buildings.
"An arrival, an arrival!" called Annie, in a loud whisper.
"Who is it? Is it anybody that we know?" asked one of the girls that had
been brought in with her.