and say: 'God's will be done'"; and
tears streamed unheeded from the mother's eyes.

The girl stepped quickly to her mother's side and drew the gray head
gently to her shoulder, whispering comfortingly: "There, there, little
mother, don't cry so. You are fretting yourself to death over Tim, and
surely, surely, things will come right in the end. Tim is not a bad boy,
mother dear, only a little wild just now. Remember how good he used to
be, how kind, how helpful, in that hard time you were just speaking
about. Remember how good he was when father died, and how young he was
when he first went to work to help you support us all. Tim's a good boy
at heart, mother, and he's bound to come back before long."

"Yes, dearie, that's what the Father says," returned her mother, slowly
drying her eyes and rising to lay the girl's supper upon the table.

"He says not to worry but just pray, pray, pray, and Tim will surely
come back before long. But there, dear, sit down and eat your supper;
then we'll fill the children's stockings for I can guess what is in all
those parcels you brought home. Poor little things, it would not be
Christmas for them unless they hung their stockings. Thank God, I've
always managed to find something to put into them if it was only an
orange or an apple and a little candy. Indeed, that's about all it was
when you and Tim were younger, but life is so much easier now that you
are helping me."

"And it is going to be easier still, mother dear, and you will be the
happiest little woman in the world one of these days. This wild spell of
Tim's is bound to pass and then he will settle down and be his own old
self again. There, dear," the girl continued, a few moments later; "my
supper is finished and now I'll clear away these dishes and fill the
children's stockings. Just see all the pretty things I've brought for
them. Won't their little eyes dance when they see them! Then, mother
dear, before we go to sleep, you and I will say the rosary for Tim. It
is too late for him to go to confession to-night, but wherever he is,
and God alone knows where he may be, he needs our prayers and he will
have them. As the good Father said, we will pray, pray, pray. If we only
pray hard enough and trust hard enough, things are bound to come right
in the end."

The afternoon and evening had been unusually busy ones for Father
Xavier. Hour after hour he had sat in the confessional listening to the
tales of sin and sorrow that