an hour
before closing time. The boys were waiting for him. He was hardly seated
in his office, when he heard a knock at the door. Looking up he saw
three boys before him. "Well?" said Father Boone sternly, for by now he
was in a fighting mood. The committee consisted of Frank, Dick and
Tommy. Frank was spokesman.

"We have come, please, Father, in regard to the trouble in the Club. We
have been chosen as a committee to see you about it. We . . ." He got
no further.

"We!" shouted the director. "We! Is this committee secretary of the Club
or are you?--you sir, Frank Mulvy. Here it is the third day since the
disgraceful affair occurred and you--you sir, Mr. Frank Mulvy,
Secretary, have kept me in the dark on a matter that it was your
official duty to report! Do you understand, sir! that you are the
secretary of this Club; and you have duties as well as privileges?"

Poor Frank! If some one had struck him a blow between the eyes, he could
not have been half so stunned. He had to exert all his power to master
his feelings. He tried to speak. His throat refused to let the words
out. Was he to go away again misunderstood? Was he to have the agony of
it all over again? He was helpless, speechless. And there sat the
director, indignant and angry.

While Frank was trying to get himself together, the director arose,
dismissed them, and left his room and the Club.

(VIII)

After the interview, if such it could be called, the committee went back
to the crowd. On the way downstairs, Dick turned to the spokesman. "Why
didn't you speak up, Frank?" Frank's soul at that moment was on fire.

"Speak up?" he fairly yelled, "and what were you 'boobs' doing? Why
didn't you back me up! You stood there like dummies. You'd think we were
culprits the way he sailed into us. And neither of you opened your
mouths."

"That was your job," retorted Dick, "and you got cold feet as soon as he
looked at you. I thought you had more sand."

"Sand!" echoed Frank, "maybe you'd do better. Didn't you have your
chance yesterday at the rectory? And you said yourself that you went out
of the place like a sheep. Don't talk to me about 'sand'. You know
yourself it's not lack of courage, either on your part or mine. I could
face any one else and have it out. But when I saw his face, and heard
his voice, I just wilted. You can't fight a man that's already wounded.
The thing is hurting him worse than it hurts us. But I'll be blamed if I
know what's up.