Turning, he saw five or six of the team standing about. They had all heard the conversation. Not one had come forward to befriend him.
"It's all right, fellows, I have no kick. I'm in bad. But I hope you'll find out some day that I'm misrepresented."
So saying, he walked away, down-hearted, but full of exultation. He was paying a high price for that offering to the Sacred Heart. It hurt. But he was glad that he was doing something worth while for God.
He left the field. He could not bear to stay and look on. He had not gone far when Dick and Ned overtook him. "Say, fellows, don't mind me," he said to them. "Go back and take in the sport."
"Not without you," said Dick.
At the same time, Ned put his hand in his, but said nothing.
Frank's eyes filled. Here was trust. Here was devotion. They walked along for five minutes, not a word being spoken. Rather, many words were uttered, but they were the silent language of the heart.
"I think I'll see Father Boone," Frank said eventually. "I want to get his advice on something. Good-bye fellows. I'll never forget how true you were to me." And he headed off in the direction of the Club, hoping to find the priest in his office there.
(III)
Father Boone was in and he was very serious, as it was easy to see from his face and manner. For he had just heard how his boy, Frank, was being treated.