everyone he met was looking at him. He
could almost hear passersby say "goody-good" and "roughneck."

If Frank had been "just any boy," the experience of the recess hour
would not have caused him such exquisite anguish. But a boy of high
honor resents with all his soul the insinuation that he appears one
thing, while in reality he is another. "But why," he reflected, almost
aloud, "why should I carry a load that is not mine? I did not ask Daly's
confidence. Why should I suffer for it?" He knew the answer, at once.
Honor demanded it, and honor's price at times comes high. That is what
makes its value. But the thing kept coming back. It would not let him
alone. When apparently settled, it came again in a new form.

"Daly is gone," he reflected. "He hasn't got to face a crowd and bear
their jeers and insults. I kept this secret as long as it could possibly
hurt him any. Now, what's the harm in clearing myself?"

This thought clung to him like a wet garment. It looked right, but his
fine sense of honor detected the wrong that lurked in it.

"Yes," he said, "Daly is gone, but his father and mother are here. What
a blow it would be to them!"

But back again came the temptation, were his own father and mother not
to be considered also? Did he not owe more to them than to Bill Daly's
parents? And so he went on, balancing duty with duty. Yes, it certainly
was right for him to clear himself. This conclusion, however, did not
satisfy him either.

"Two things are against it," he mused. "First, any crook can accuse the
silent dead. I am free of guilt, but I must not establish my innocence
by making the dead guilty. Moreover, who would believe me? They'd all
say that a fellow mean enough to wreck a club room, would be mean enough
to lie. It wouldn't do me any good to speak out.

"And then--Bill Daly's death made a profound impression on everybody.
Father Boone's sermon at the funeral was as good as a mission. All that
would be undone if I let out on Daly. I can live this thing down, he
can't. Should I, even because of the pain of this thing to myself and my
father and mother, break up all that? No. Not even if I was sure it
would help my case. I know I am right with God. That counts most. If I
am doing something for Him, I must do it right. No whining, nor
complaining, nor getting amazed that I am ill-treated. All that goes
with the sacrifice."

He entered the church and went to the altar of the Sacred Heart. "O my
God, for