LeJeune’s mother, who was also volunteering, brought Lovechild a pair of white Birkenstock clogs, the kind worn by nurses. A few minutes later, Kathy LeJeune, 46, returned with a promise of a night’s sleep at a nearby church.

But after the group carried in garbage bags their few possessions—towels, applesauce cups, a pillow to serve as a changing table—an escape seemed impossible.

“They say they can only take the momma and the baby and the daddy,” Kathy LeJeune said.

Instead, the volunteer promised to ferry the family to her home in Iota, La. She was living in her daughter’s apartment in Baton Rouge. “There’s no power but you can all be together,” she said.

Lovechild gazed blankly into hot sun, holding her baby close above the bulge in her stomach.

Monica Clark, student body president of the University of New Orleans (UNO), thanked LSU at the meeting, winning applause as soon as she said her school’s name.

She had evacuated with a friend on Saturday night, joining the traffic on I-10 to Baton Rouge. There, she joined her family at her home, but she didn’t know about her fellow students, 80 percent of whom are from New Orleans.

“We’re still looking for them,” Clark said.

On Friday, seeking “some type of normalcy,” Clark visited the admissions office and became an LSU student one hour later. UNO, which has 1,700 undergraduate students, ran a makeshift office in an LSU building. Clark said she saw a lot of her friends on campus.

“It doesn’t matter what school you’re from. You’re all in this together,” Clark said.

—Staff writer April H. N. Yee can be reached at aprilyee@fas.harvard.edu.