e at the
Club, poor boy!"

"And what he says is so often the truth," repeated Frank mentally.

Again Bill began to talk. "O, he has 'sand.'"

"I wonder what that means?" asked Mrs. Daly.

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

"But, he's good, too," continued Bill. "That's why he has 'sand.' What a
cur I was to put him in bad." Then, after a pause, "Mulvy, never again
for me! Straight goods for mine. No more yellow for Bill Daly."

His parents looked at one another. It was all Greek to them. But it had
much meaning for Frank. Mr. Daly sat there in deep thought. He was
thinking of his early days, his happy home, his fond child. And then
came the years after. The broken home, the broken hearts and here now,
his dying boy.

"God is punishing me," he thought to himself. "But I wish He would not
punish the mother for my sins. O God, spare my boy!"

This last he said out loud. Frank and Mrs. Daly turned suddenly toward
him. His voice was choked as he said, "O God, punish me but spare those
I love!" Frank's eyes filled as he gazed on the broken man before him.

Again Bill's voice was heard. "Mother, I want Frank. Send for Frank. I
want Frank and Father Boone. Dad, we'll never quarrel again. Home will
be nice for us all. Mother, mother, mother!" And he lapsed into
unconsciousness again.

Frank felt terribly out of place. Twice while Bill was talking, he had
started to go, but Mrs. Daly held him. He seemed to be necessary to her
now. He was her boy's friend and she wanted him by her. Frank perceived
this and he made up his mind to wait as long as he could. After about an
hour Father Boone came in.

"I was down near here on a sick call, and I thought I'd just drop in for
a moment," he said. "O, you here, Frank? Well now, that's nice, I
declare." And he sat down.

The doctor was making his final rounds for the evening, and entered just
as the priest was seated. He saluted all, gave a special nod to Father
Boone, and then, after excusing his interruption, went over to the
patient. All were quiet as he made his examination. When he finished,
the mother stood up and looking him direct in the eyes, said, "Doctor,
is my boy going to die?"

"We never know, Madam. We can't tell. We do all we can, and hope for the
best. That is what you must do too. But he is very ill."

From the tone it was said in, the mother gathered that there was little
hope. That was Father Boone's impression also. Mr. Daly seemed to be in
a trance. His mi