“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she breathed, “blessed art thou among women; and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”
At intervals the bell continued to ring softly, the people beat their breasts; all bent before the uplifted host, save the child, who looked on, open-eyed, wondering.
“Holy Mary, mother of God,” pleaded the girl. “Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death!”
When the services were ended, Rosie lingered until the priest had left the altar and the people had gone. Upon her way out she paused. In a far corner, where the light scarcely fell, hung a pale, white Christ upon a cross; she knelt and pressed her lips to the wounded feet, her eyes bright with tears, and then she passed out through the great swinging doors.
Larry had been one of the first to leave the church; Jimmie Larkin, who was standing upon Kerrigan’s corner, saw him, instantly crossed the street and advanced to meet him.
“Larkin!” young Murphy’s voice showed his surprise; and he held out his hand in a hearty, full-blooded fashion. But Jimmie stuffed his hands into his pockets, and stared at him, with a sneer.
“Ain’t youse forgot somethin’?” asked he.
Larry looked his astonishment: “What’s hurtin’ ye?” he demanded.
“Ye know well enough! I’ve bin put next to the cross game yer workin’, Murphy; I’m dead on, I tell ye, and I’m rotten sorry! I trusted ye, I did; I trusted youse like I would me brother.”
“Say, what’s the matter with youse, Larkin? Don’t stand there like a stuffed shirt! Put me on to the trouble. What are youse jumpin’ me for?”