ly a matter of ten minutes stay beside the little stream for Tim
Hurley. The group about him made way for Monsignor, who sank on his
knees beside him, and held up the boy's face to the fading light.

"The priest is here, Tim," he said gently, and Endicott saw the receding
life rush back with joy into the agonized features. With something like
a laugh he raised his inert hands, and seized the hands of the priest,
which he covered with kisses.

"I shall die happy, thanks be to God," he said weakly; "and, father,
don't forget to tell my mother. It's her last consolation, poor dear."

"And I have the holy oils, Tim," said Monsignor softly.

Another rush of light to the darkening face!

"Tell her that, too, father dear," said Tim.

"With my own lips," answered Monsignor.

The bystanders moved away a little distance, and the lady resigned her
place, while Tim made his last confession. Endicott stood and wondered
at the sight; the priest holding the boy's head with his left arm, close
to his bosom and Tim grasping lovingly the hand of his friend, while he
whispered in little gasps his sins and his repentance; briefly, for time
was pressing. Then Monsignor called Horace and bade him support the
lad's head; and also the lovely lady and gave her directions "for his
mother's sake." She was woman and mother both, no doubt, by the way she
served another woman's son in his fatal distress. The men brought her
water from the stream. With her own hands she bared his feet, bathed and
wiped them, washed his hands, and cried tenderly all the time. Horace
shuddered as he dried the boy's sweating forehead, and felt the chill of
that death which had never yet come near him. He saw now what the priest
meant by the holy oils. Out of his satchel Monsignor took a golden
cylinder, unscrewed the top, dipped his thumb in what appeared to be an
oily substance, and applied it to Tim's eyes, to his ears, his nose, his
mouth, the palms of his hands, and the soles of his feet, distinctly
repeating certain Latin invocations as he worked. Then he read for some
time from a little book, and finished by wiping his fingers in cotton
and returning all to the satchel again. There was a look of supreme
satisfaction on his face.

"You are all right now, Tim," he said cheerfully.

"All right, father," repeated the lad faintly, "and don't forget to tell
mother everything, and say I died happy, praising God, and that she
won't be long after me. And let Harry