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 'hello' to me yet."
No answer. "You know Father Boone, don't you, Willie?"

"Hello, 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