Sacrifice of the Mass for William this morning,"
said the priest, "and I suggest that on the day of the funeral you all
go to Communion again in a body for the repose of his soul."

"We had already decided on that, Father," said Dick.

"That is good," remarked the priest, "and now another thing. You know
his mother is terribly broken up by her boy's death. That is natural.
She would not be a mother otherwise. Of course, she is resigned to God's
will. So was Our Blessed Mother, at the foot of the Cross, but that did
not prevent her heart from being pierced with grief. Mrs. Daly was very
brave under it all. So much so that Mr. Roberts, who was there, said to
me afterwards, 'Your religion is a wonderful thing in affliction.' But,
boys, she feels the separation keenly. William was a remarkably good
boy to his mother. Now that he is dead, I can say to you that the poor
boy had an awful lot to contend with, and if it were not for his
religion and his mother, no one can say how he might have turned out.

"Now I suggest, boys, that you divide up, and some of you go over to the
house at one time, and some at another, on a visit of condolence."

"Yes, Father," said Tommy. "We were thinking about going over."

"What's the best thing to say to her, Father, if we want to show our
sympathy?" asked Dick.

"Nothing," replied the priest. "Words are useless in deep sorrow. Just
go there quietly. Your mere presence will say more than any words, if
your behavior is considerate."

"Shouldn't we say anything at all?" asked Ned.

"Just a word or two to say who you are, and that you are sorry for her.
Your presence is what will talk most."

It was after ten o'clock that evening when Father Boone reached the Daly
flat. He had been stopped several times on his way over, by inquiries
about the Club, and Daly. On entering he found six of the Club boys
kneeling around the body saying the rosary. The lads had held a meeting
after Father Boone had left them, and decided to go in groups of six,
each group to stay a half hour. They also decided that the best way they
could show their sympathy for the parents, and to aid Bill, was to say
the beads.

In order not to disturb them, Father Boone went quietly into the rear
room. Some one told Mrs. Daly that the priest was come, and she went to
him at once. As soon as she saw Father Boone, she broke down. The priest
had expected it. He had seen less devoted mothers become hysterical
under such cir