But Father Boone! This was adding insult to injury! So Mulvy did know something about it! And instead of coming to the director, he had gone over to the janitor! A nice way for a trusted and honorable boy to act!

Father Boone had been trying all along to convince himself that somehow Mulvy would come out of it clear and clean. He had thought of a thousand excuses for the delay--questions of divided allegiance or some point or other of honor and so on. But Mulvy's going to the janitor to get information looked like an underhand mission, certainly. What for?--To find out what the director knew, or how he had taken it--or to arrange some explanation?

All these questions shot through his mind with the rapidity of lightning. None of them carried its own answer. All of them seemed out of harmony with what he knew of Mulvy. And yet, there were the facts.

(II)

The parochial school was around the corner from the church and club and it was at this very hour that the department of which young Harry Dunn was a member had been turned loose in the play yard for recess. A game of tag was soon on, and Dunn, dodging in and out, ran right into Ned Mullen. The collision sent Dunn sprawling to the ground. He was two years younger than Ned, but very stocky. It was n.o.body's fault that he got the b.u.mp; but nevertheless as soon as he rose to his feet, he rushed at Ned and gave him a kick in the shins. Ned's first impulse was to box his ears, but as the boy was so small, he merely took hold of him and gave him a good shaking.

Dunn began to blubber. In a thrice a crowd gathered, and Dunn, seeing that he was being teased, got ugly. Turning to Ned, who was about to back off with Tommy, he cried out: "Yes, you belong to the crowd that smashed up things! Father Boone will fix you!"

The threat didn't mean much to Tommy and Ned and they walked away.

Harry Dunn, however, had heard just enough from his father about the Club damage to think he could best get even by telling his teacher about it. So, when the boys got into their school rooms again, he tried to tell the Sister that two fellows had thrown him down in the yard. She paid no attention to him. After cla.s.s, he went to her again, and said that the boys who broke things at the Club were trying to pick on him.

"Mind your own business, Harry," she said, "and n.o.body will pick on you, you little tattletale." As the boys say, he got "his."

That afternoon Father Boone, pa.s.sing through the school after cla.s.s, stopped to talk to the Sister in the vestibule. Just then along came young Dunn.

"Here's a young gentleman who is talking about a row at the Club," she said to the priest, as she held the lad by her eye. She thought the boy had made a mountain out of a mole hill, and that the director's shrug or laugh would show the youngster where he stood. Instead, Father Boone grew instantly serious. The Sister saw she had made a mistake, but before she could change the subject, he said, disregarding the boy:

"It was bad business, Sister. I feel ashamed and hurt about it. I did not think my boys would act so."

Then he continued, "But how did you know about it, Sister?"

"O, a little bird told me."

"Indeed, and may I ask what the little bird told you?"

"Really, Father, it's not worth while referring to. I shouldn't have recalled it but for that young lad who pa.s.sed us this moment. You know him, don't you?"

"I can't say that I do."

"He is Harry Dunn, Father, the son of your janitor."

"O, that's interesting, Sister; so it seems that I know less--"

At this moment he was interrupted by a messenger who told him that he was wanted for a sick call. He hurried to the rectory. A woman in the parlor was waiting to give him the name and address of a sick person.

"Why, that," he exclaimed, "is the house where the Dalys live."

"Yes, Father."

"How old is this boy you say is so ill?"

"About twelve, Father."

"Do you know whether he is seriously ill; has the doctor been there?"

"O yes, Father, and he said the boy had typhoid. There is another case in the house also, and the Board of Health has been around."

He promised to go at once to administer the consolations of religion to the sick boy. "I am glad the Board of Health is on the ground," he said to himself, as he was on his way over. "From what I saw of conditions there, it's a wonder they're not all down with typhoid. I suppose Willie would have had it, except that he is such a robust and active lad."

When the priest had finished his ministrations, he went up to the Daly flat. After his knock at the door, he heard quick movements inside and then a rather long silence. He rapped again. This time the door was opened and Mrs. Daly met him. The reason for the delay was evident. She had been crying and did not care to exhibit herself to a neighbor. But on seeing Father Boone she broke out afresh, at the same time showing him a telegram she had just received from the hospital. It read: "William Daly dangerously ill. You will be admitted any hour." It was signed by the superintendent.

Father Boone put two and two together, "Typhoid." He made up his mind at once just what to do. "You stay here until I send a cab for you; then come along." He himself hurried downstairs, walked quickly over to the trolley and in ten minutes was at the hospital. Not until he got there did he go to the phone and call up a taxi for Mrs. Daly. He had a good start now, and could pave the way for her.

Going immediately to the ward, he found the nurse at Daly's bedside.

"Rather sudden," he remarked.

"Very," she replied.

"There were no signs last night, nurse, as far as I could see. What seems to be the matter?"

"Typhoid."

All this was in a whisper.

He continued, "I'll just see how he is and say a few words to him before his mother comes."

"He is delirious, Father."

"Maybe he'll know me," he said, and bent over the patient. He took his hand gently, saying, "Willie boy, you have not said 'h.e.l.lo' to me yet."

No answer. "You know Father Boone, don't you, Willie?"

"h.e.l.lo, Frank," was the response. "I wish I had your 'sand.' I say, Frank," he continued, "I'm starting right when this thing is over." He paused for a moment and then resumed. "I don't blame the fellows. I'm down on myself now." Another pause. "Frank, you tell Father Boone I'm sorry. I want to see him. You are a brick. I am . . . O, I'll tell . . .

the whole thing if it . . . chokes me." This last was said with an effort.

Father Boone attributed all he was saying to delirium. He realized that the patient's condition was serious, and prepared to give him the Last Sacraments. As he took out the Holy Oils, and was about to anoint him the boy's eyes looked calmly at him and he uttered the words: "h.e.l.lo, Father."

The priest was very glad that the boy was conscious, and not knowing how long he would remain so, he started to hear his confession as quickly as possible. He began by receiving from him a general acknowledgment of his sins and contrition for them, intending, if time permitted, to hear his confession in detail. "You are sorry for all the sins of your life, my child?"

"Yes, Father."

"Say the Act of Contrition."

He began: "O my G.o.d, I am most heartily sorry for all my sins and I . . .

and I . . . and . . ."

When Father Boone saw that William was lapsing into unconsciousness, he took a crucifix and holding it to the boy's lips, said, "Kiss the crucifix, my child, and say, 'Jesus have mercy on me.'" As he gave him absolution, he heard him murmur, "Jesus . . . have mer. . . ." and off he fell again into delirium.

The priest was sorry that the confession had been cut short, but was very glad that he was able to give him absolution. Then he anointed him, for Daly's condition did not permit of his receiving Holy Viatic.u.m. The priest had barely finished the administration of the last rites, when Mrs. Daly appeared. He quickly approached her and cautioned her sternly not to show emotion in the presence of the patient, as any excitement would only make his condition worse.

"O my Willie, my Willie," was her answer, and her body shook with emotion. "Willie was the good boy, he was the good boy to his mother. O blessed Mother, help me now in my hour."

The first burst of grief over, she really showed wonderful control and approached the bed quite calmly. Bill was now sleeping. The mother sat by his side with her hand on his. Seeing that the priest was waiting, she said, "Are you waiting to give him the Sacraments, Father?"

"No, I have already done that," he replied, "but, if you don't mind, I'll wait for you."

"No, no, Father dear," she said, "don't wait for me, for I am afraid it would be a long wait."