"Thanks!" said Regan.
And that was all the help he got from Carleton—then. But that night over their usual game of pedro in the super's office, it was a little different. Carleton, as he pulled the cards out of the desk drawer and tossed them on the table, pulled a small book from his pocket and tossed it to Regan.
"What's this?" inquired the master mechanic.
"It's not to your credit to ask—it's a prayer book," Carleton informed him. "Be careful of it—I borrowed it."
"You didn't need to say so," said Regan softly.
"Page two hundred and eight," suggested Carleton. "See if that's what you were looking for, Tommy."
Regan thumbed the leaves, found the place and began to read—and a sickly sort of pallor began to spread over his face.
"'You are his sureties that he will renounce the devil and all his works,'" he mumbled weakly.
"Yes," said Carleton cheerfully. "There's some little responsibility there, you see. But don't skip the parenthesis; get it all, Tommy—'until he come of age to take it upon himself.'"
Regan didn't say a word—nor was the smile he essayed an enthusiastic success. He read the "articles" over again word by word, pointing the lines with his pudgy forefinger.