A Boy Knight

by Martin J. Scott

(VII)

Down the dark and crooked stairs Father Boone made his way. When he got to the street floor and opened the door and took in the clear sunlight, he thought, "Will this dark passage of mind in which I find myself terminate in a clear understanding?" While going along he reflected that so far every step had only led into darker ways. He had tried to convince himself that Frank was not cognizant of the mischief. He could not understand how such a boy would fail him. He felt as mean for himself as he did for Frank. To be so utterly deceived in a boy! Frank should have reported it, even though he had no part in it. Decision and consequences should be left to the director of the Club.

When Frank had taken office, it was made clear to him that the secretary as an officer was obliged to keep the director informed concerning matters of importance. This wreckage was a matter of the greatest importance. It had taken him a whole day to restore the place and had cost him no small sum of money. Besides, it was not only that; the breakage indicated a big disturbance. There had been a free fight, evidently, and bad blood. Perhaps there was a division in the Club. It was Mulvy's business to report the affair and leave the rest to the director. He failed to do so. That in itself, in a boy like him, was worse by far than a dozen fights.

Every thing tended to convince Father Boone that Frank had taken a false step. In this indignant mood, he reached the Club about half an hour before closing time. The boys were waiting for him. He was hardly seated in his office, when he heard a knock at the door. Looking up he saw three boys before him. "Well?" said Father Boone sternly, for by now he was in a fighting mood. The committee consisted of Frank, Dick and Tommy. Frank was spokesman.

"We have come, please, Father, in regard to the trouble in the Club. We have been chosen as a committee to see you about it. We . . ." He got no further.

"We!" shouted the director. "We! Is this committee secretary of the Club or are you?—you sir, Frank Mulvy. Here it is the third day since the disgraceful affair occurred and you—you sir, Mr. Frank Mulvy, Secretary, have kept me in the dark on a matter that it was your official duty to report! Do you understand, sir! that you are the secretary of this Club; and you have duties as well as privileges?"

Poor Frank! If some one had struck him a blow between the eyes, he could not have been half so stunned. He had to exert all his power to master his feelings. He tried to speak. His throat refused to let the words out. Was he to go away again misunderstood? Was he to have the agony of it all over again? He was helpless, speechless. And there sat the director, indignant and angry.

While Frank was trying to get himself together, the director arose, dismissed them, and left his room and the Club.

(VIII)

After the interview, if such it could be called, the committee went back to the crowd. On the way downstairs, Dick turned to the spokesman. "Why didn't you speak up, Frank?" Frank's soul at that moment was on fire.