r woman," he exclaimed, "this is no place for you
at this hour. And you, Frank? I must say I am glad to see you here, but
we must all go home now. Wait for me a minute. I'll just run upstairs
and see William." As a priest, he had access to the wards at any hour of
the day or night. It occurred to him that the patient might be conscious
by that time, and he decided to see him and hear his confession if
possible. He was conducted to Daly's bed, and saw that he was sleeping
soundly. He knew that sleep was the best medicine; so he left the
patient, after giving him his blessing.

"He is sleeping like a baby, Mrs. Daly," was the way he saluted the
mother, as he drew near. Then, waiting for neither _yes_ nor _no_, he
took it for granted that they were all going home. Under his dominant
and kindly manner, Mrs. Daly was like a child. Father Boone called a cab
and gave the driver the order to take both Mrs. Daly and Frank to their
homes. He put a bill in Frank's hand to pay the fares, and without
waiting for thanks or protestations, closed the taxi door, and walked
briskly homeward.

Father Boone felt, after the crowded events and impressions of the day,
that he needed the walk back to the rectory to clear his head. "I was
right," he declared to himself, "Mulvy is all gold. The consideration of
that boy! I've gone wrong somewhere! Frank's too tender-hearted to cause
me pain, deliberately, and he is too brave to shirk responsibility--to
fail in the discharge of his duty. Deductions do not avail against known
characteristics. A boy of Mulvy's character doesn't do a cowardly thing.
I know that--evidence or no evidence. And yet--that plagued mystery
keeps staring me in the face! If they had told me they'd had a
free-for-all! I can make allowances. I know boys. Here it's nearly a
week, and not one word in regard to the affair. And they know I am all
cut up over it.

"What's up anyway? Why didn't I send for Mulvy after the first day and
demand a report or explanation? Pride, I suppose; hurt, at their lack
of confidence in me. Well, the only thing is to get down from my high
horse now. I've got to begin with myself.

"And yet," his thoughts swung around, "I don't know as it is pride
exactly. There's the fitness of things--just indignation. Our Lord
himself had to show it to the Scribes and Pharisees. I want those boys
to know they're not acting right. That's my real motive." He sighed
deeply. "Here I am again between post and pilla