(VII)

Having been a.s.sured that the case was not fatal, Father Boone boarded a trolley and soon found himself near the Daly tenement. He was used to errands like this. And yet this had something different about it. Often had he carried sad news to wives and mothers and fathers. But there was an element of tragedy in this case. Only the day before, he had left the Dalys starting out on a new way, father, mother and son. And now the link that bound father and mother, if not broken, was very close to it.

Would the news start Mike Daly drinking? Would it harden him, or would he see in it the hand of G.o.d?

With these thoughts in his mind, he rapped gently at the door. Mrs. Daly met him all radiant. A wonderful change had occurred. The room was neat and clean, she herself was as tidy as a pin and in walked Daly himself, greatly improved by a clean shave and a clean collar. "I want to see both of you together," he said. "I have a bit of good news for you."

They walked into the front room. It was really decent now. The home as well as the occupants had undergone a change.

"Mr. and Mrs. Daly," began the priest, "I want to congratulate you. You have a boy to be proud of. You have someone to live for. Willie is a hero. He has just saved two lives at a fire."

At the word fire, and at not seeing their boy along with the priest, a certain apprehension seized them both. Neither spoke for a moment, and then Daly said, "And where is the boy?"

"He is all right," answered the priest. "He got a few scratches and bruises, but it is nothing much. He is a real hero, and all the boys are talking about him. I just thought I'd be the first to bring you the news."

"Tell us about it, Father dear," exclaimed Mrs. Daly.

The priest now felt that the worst part of his task was over. In a rea.s.suring tone he narrated all that had happened. He made up his mind to tell everything just as it was, because he felt it was better for them to get it from him and with him near, than in any other way.

When he got to the fall from the ladder, the mother screamed and fell back in her chair. The priest was not unprepared for this. He dashed cold water into her face, and soon she came to, moaning and uttering pious e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns for her son. By the time the priest was ready to leave, both father and mother were composed and resigned.

"You should thank G.o.d, both of you," said Father Boone to them, "that He has left you your boy. It is a lesson to all of us to live in such a way as to be always ready to meet G.o.d whenever He calls us out of life. Now you, Michael, no matter what happens, don't you ever think that the liquor will drown your sorrow. I'd rather see Willie a corpse than to see you drunk again."

"And so would I myself, so help me!" exclaimed Michael.

The priest nodded, satisfied that now Michael was out of the pit. He gave them the hospital address, and advised them not to go before the next day, unless they received a message. No news, he a.s.sured them, was good news.

No news might be good news, but not for a mother. Hardly had the door closed when Mrs. Daly put on her things and made ready to start for the hospital.

The priest had a good deal to think about. There was a possibility that Willie's condition was serious on account of internal injuries. What a blow it would be to the parents if he should die! When he reached home, the first thing he did was to telephone to the hospital and inquire about the boy. He was informed that the patient was resting quietly.

"That is good," he said to himself, "for I should not be at all surprised if Mrs. Daly ran down to see the lad tonight." With that he went over to the Club, wrote a few letters, and then returned to the rectory for the night.

(VIII)

The boys were late leaving the Club after the excitement of the fire.

They spoke in suppressed tones. Admiration and regret prevailed--admiration for Bill's daring deed--regret for their conduct to him just before.

"Gee!" said Tommy, "I'm sorry I sailed into him the way I did."

"And who would have thought he was such a daring chap!" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"It only shows," added Ned, "that you never can tell what's in a fellow."

"We called him the 'Bull'," said Frank, "and in one way we were right, for that was the bulliest thing I ever saw. My hat is off to Bill Daly."

After a while, they turned to speculating on his condition.

"I hope it's nothing serious," remarked d.i.c.k.

"Suppose we wait until Father Boone comes back," added Tommy. "He'll tell us exactly what's the matter."

After it had got to be late, Frank observed, "I'll bet he's waiting for Bill to regain consciousness, and there's no telling when he'll be back.

Let's wait a quarter of an hour more, and then if he's not here, we'd better go."

They all a.s.sented to this and when the time was up, they started to leave. Frank, however, signalled to d.i.c.k and Ned and Tommy, and they loitered about until the rest had gone.

"Fellows," began Frank, "I had a letter all written to Father Boone about the sc.r.a.pe we're in, but I tore it up, I'm surer than ever that something worse has happened than that fight. I don't even believe that Father Boone knows who was in it. But that sc.r.a.p was the basis of something else, something really serious. Bill Daly knows what it was, believe me. He came here tonight to straighten things out. Did you see how he came in, and how he stood the 'gaff'? Would he have taken all that from kids like you unless he had something big troubling him? And that's not all. He got me aside and began to talk confidentially, hinting at something dark, you know. He was just getting ready to accuse himself when the fire engine came along, and you know the rest."

The three others nodded in agreement with Frank and awaited further light on the matter.

"That's all," he continued, "except that I never saw such an exalted look on any boy's face as when he leaped for that ladder. It just seemed to say 'I know you've got me down bad, boys, but here goes to show you that there is some good left in Bill Daly.'"

In point of fact, Bill had never given the boys a thought when he made his plunge for the ladder. But the look of exaltation, as Frank called it, was there nevertheless. Its source was higher than Frank gave him credit for.

"Now I maintain," a.s.serted Frank, "that the fellow was glad of the chance to set himself right with the Club. And from what he hinted at, I'm certain, too, that he did something to 'queer' us with Father Boone, something pretty bad, too, for I never before knew Father Boone to take such measures as he has in this affair."

"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, old man," observed d.i.c.k.

"Sherlock Holmes or not," said Frank, "you'll find out before this thing is settled that I'm right. A man like Father Boone does not change his character over night. Something has happened to make him take this att.i.tude, and I'd give my hat to know what it is."

Frank's hat may not have been worth much, but it seemed to be the limit of his disposable property--to judge by the extreme earnestness with which he risked it. At all events the boys felt that Frank was keenly convinced of his position, and as he was always careful about his conclusions, they were inclined to agree with him.

(IX)

In this frame of mind the chums parted. The others went directly home.

Frank made some excuse for loitering and as soon as they were gone, took his way in the direction of the hospital. It was fully ten o'clock, and the hospital was nearly a mile off. He had to walk, but by a combination of brisk walking and occasional sprints, he got to the place in short time.

Everything was quiet about the immense building. In the main vestibule Frank found a matter-of-fact, middle-aged man standing behind a desk, over which was a sign--"Bureau of Information." Several people were seated on a long bench nearby, waiting to be conducted to friends or relatives who were patients, or to get word of their condition.

Frank approached the desk timidly, and said to the clerk, "May I ask, sir, how William Daly is?"

At the words 'William Daly,' there was a scream and a flutter from the bench, and in a moment a woman stood before Frank and put her arms about him, crying as she did so, "Do you know my Willie? Are you one of Father Boone's boys?" Without waiting for an answer, she went on, with sobs and exclamations, to give a fond mother's estimate of the best boy in the world.

As Mrs. Daly told of her Willie's affection for her, she broke down completely. The clerk summoned a nurse. Mrs. Daly was taken into a side room, and under the firm but kind management of the nurse, she soon calmed down. Frank, although so tender-hearted, was not an expert at giving sympathy. Indeed, it was good that he was not, for in Mrs. Daly's hysterical condition, sympathy would have made her worse. The excitement was hardly over when word came from the office that William had regained consciousness, and that he was out of danger. The messenger also added that he was sleeping quietly, and that it was not advisable to disturb him now, but that his mother would be welcome to see him in the morning.

Mrs. Daly turned to Frank. "You are one of Willie's friends?"

Frank reflected on the fight and the contemptuous terms that Bill had used toward him, but he also remembered their final talk, and so replied without hesitation, "Yes, Mrs. Daly."

"Oh, he was the good boy to his mother! And it's a hard time of it he's had, with no one knowing how much the poor boy went through to help his mother. O Blessed Mother of G.o.d, help him from your place in heaven!"

Frank was affected by the emotion which was again overcoming the fond mother, but he said as calmly as he could, "Don't you think we had better go home now, Mrs. Daly?"

"No, I can't go home and him up there," she replied.

"But you can't stay here all night," objected Frank. "Come home with me now. That's what Bill would want if he had the say."

"Is that what you call him--Bill?"