itting
admiringly at his side, told him one piece of news which pleased him
greatly. Father Boone had got his father a good job and he had started
in right away. That was why he was not down with her to see him. But he
would be around in the evening. While she was telling this, Bill
interrupted her.

"O mother, see," he whispered, indicating two nuns who were coming
toward them, "and one of them is Sister Mary Thomas."

They were Sisters from the school which Daly had attended before he went
to work, and they greeted the mother and her boy sympathetically. After
a bit, Mrs. Daly recalled that her husband returning from work would be
waiting for his dinner, and she hurried away. The Sisters stayed for
some time, giving Bill that comfort which they alone can impart. Before
going Sister Mary Thomas placed a crucifix and a pair of beads in his
hands. "He suffered for you, William," she said, "and you must also
suffer for Him--now especially."

He watched them going out, as he might gaze on departing angels. Then
his eyes were turned toward the crucifix. "He suffered in mind as well
as body for me," he mused. For Bill was remembering many things now,
which he had not recalled since the Sisters had taught them to him in
his school days. Calvary had a meaning for him now--an atonement for sin
and a restoration to goodness. "Some job--to tell on myself," he sighed,
"but I'll show the Lord that I mean business."

About seven o'clock in came Frank. Bill was both glad, and not glad, to
see him. Everything Frank did for him only made matters harder for Bill.
And yet he wanted that boy near him. Bill recognized the combination of
strength and goodness in Frank. Indeed, one reason for the fight, had
been his envy of Mulvy. But Bill's disposition had undergone a change.
After what his mother had told him Frank appeared as a boy of nobler
mould than the rest.

Frank began with an offhand, "Well, how goes it, old man?"

"Fine," answered Bill.

"You're all right, Bill. Your stock is pretty high now at the Club."

But Bill was thinking of other things than compliments, and after a
moment's silence, Frank decided that the patient was suffering a good
deal, and that he'd better go.

"No, don't go yet, Mulvy," Bill begged, "stay with a fellow a little
while."

"Why, you are crying, old man," said Frank, as he looked into his face,
"you must be suffering terribly. It takes a lot of pain to make you
cry."

"It's not pain," he wh