About ten minutes later, when the crowd had dispersed, Frank came quietly along the Avenue and over the street to his home. To his surprise the rooms were all lighted. He opened the door and received such a warm welcome that it took his breath away. All rushed at him to shake him by the hand and pat him on the back and kiss him. All but his mother. His eyes ran over the room in search of her. He saw her in the big arm chair, her apron to her eyes, wiping away tears which only he understood. He ran into her arms. Neither said a word. They just embraced. Then she kissed him on the forehead. "You are all right, Frank," was all she said.
Of course, he told them all about the game. But it was not until Dick and Ned and Tommie came in to congratulate him that they heard his part in it. Dick was a word painter, and he drew such a picture of the game and of a "certain player" in it that a certain player blushed. But the father and mother and the sisters and brothers of a "certain player" started in all over again to maul him, and tell that player what they thought of him.
After dinner, with Tommy and Dick and Ned all present, Frank had to go down to the Club. He didn't want to—he knew how the fellows would maul him. But he did feel that Father Boone would expect him to be there.
The assembled fellows were hoping he would drop in. The boys who had resigned were there, too. Frank's noble conduct had refuted all charges against himself and the Club. The crowd, knowing his quiet ways, feared that he would not come. But when he arrived, it was the same old thing over again. Cheers, hand-shakes, howling, thumping, the way that boys have of saying what they most want to say.
After a while, he went upstairs. Father Boone was expecting him. He entered smiling. Father Boone was smiling too. But as they looked at each other in silence, the strong man and the brave boy saw tears in each other's eyes. They grasped hands. And they looked, as it were, each into the other's soul. For they understood.
For a long time they sat in silence, pensive, peaceful. At length Father Boone broke the silence. It was no word of congratulation, no reference to the game.
"Well, Frank, God's way is the best way."
Another spell of silence. This was broken by Frank.
"I remember, Father, that you said life was a mirage. I've been thinking of poor Bill, and how he misunderstood us, and of how you were mistaken in me, and how I misjudged you. We saw so much that really was not there at all."
"It's good to realize that so early in life, Frank. I've found from experience that most trouble comes from misunderstanding. Why God permits it, we do not know. I suppose it is to try us."