pathized with him. Boys have, for the
most part, a sense of justice. They desire to see fair play--they know
when to let up. When he reached home, he went straight to his mother.

"Mother," he said, "you won't listen to any of the stories and things
they are saying, will you? I could speak of it--of that whole Club
matter, you know, to the priest, in confession, mother, but to no one
else and in no other way. If some one had told you, mother, in the most
sacred confidence, something about his most secret doings, and if it was
something which you never could know otherwise, would you feel justified
in revealing it?"

"Certainly not, Frank."

"Well, that is my position, mother. For the present my mouth is locked,
but in due time everything will be set right."

"Yes, yes, my boy. Mother knows you will do what is right. Duty costs
dear, but one must pay the price. After all, if it were easy to do
right, there wouldn't be much credit in it. It is the hard things that
count."

"I am glad, mother, that we both look at it in the same way."

Her answer was a kiss.

(III)

On his way to the Club that evening, Frank met Dick.

"Did you hear the news, Hank?" he said. "Bill Daly is dying. He has
typhoid."

"Who told you, Dick?"

"Tom Gaffney. He was down to the rectory before supper and Father Boone
had just come back from the hospital. He told him that Bill was
delirious three days. He also said that he had given him the last rites,
and that there was slim chance for his recovery."

Frank and Dick accelerated their pace. They were both anxious to hear
more about the matter. At the Club, they met Father Boone going out.

"Boys, say a little prayer for William Daly. I think he is near the
end."

"Was he prepared?" asked Frank, a lump in his throat.

"Everything except confession," replied the priest. "You see, he is
delirious. I have been down to see him twice a day the last two days,
but he has not regained consciousness. I am going down now in hopes I
may find him able to go to confession. If not, we must leave him to God
and the Blessed Mother."

Saying that, he started off to the hospital.

Frank turned white as a sheet.

"What's the matter, Hank?" said Dick. He could not answer. "Why, what's
up, Frank?"

"O, nothing, Dick, I'm all right now."

Like a flash it had occurred to Frank. "What if Daly should die without
saying anything about the Club affair!" No wonder his heart beat like a
hammer! No won