"O mother, I am so glad you said that. I was afraid you'd go down to see him, and then I'd get 'kidded' by the fellows. They would say that I had to get my mother to fight my battles. I was going to make you promise that you would keep out of this thing, but now I don't have to. You are the good little mother."
"But," she interrupted, "I am going to ask you for a promise. No matter what happens, and no matter what the other boys do, you won't ever do anything or say anything disrespectful to Father Boone, or about him?"
"O, that's easy, mother. I had made up my mind that that was one thing I couldn't do—anything that would reflect on him."
She kissed him proudly, and a big load was lifted from his heart. Nothing would matter now. His mother was with him. He could stand anything with her back of him. He withdrew to his bedroom and knelt down before his little altar to offer the sufferings of the day as a sacrifice to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. "Sweet Jesus, I have suffered much today. Take my sufferings as penance for my sins and as thanksgiving for bestowing on me such a good mother, and give me strength to bear everything rather than offend Thee." He arose light-hearted.
A few moments later his mother heard him humming a hymn to the Blessed Virgin:
"Mother dear, O pray for me,
When far from heaven and thee
I wander in a fragile bark
O'er life's tempestuous sea."
"He is all right now," reflected Mrs. Mulvy as she went to her room smiling.
(III)
After his soliloquy, Father Boone went to the rectory in a firm frame of mind. When he got there, he found Mrs. Daly waiting for him. She came, she said, to ask his advice about Willie and his father. The father came home drunk nearly every night, and in such a condition, that Willie could not only defend himself, but could also injure his father. Tonight, she went on to relate, they had an awful time. She had to interfere to prevent serious harm to one or both.
"Only for Willie being so good to his mother I would not dare rush in between them. But I know that no matter what happens, he would never hurt me. So tonight I threw myself right between them, and separated them. Father, I am getting tired of this life. It's not Christian. I was brought up well, and though you mightn't think it, I know the difference. So I came to see you to ask your advice. Should I put him away again? It did no good last time. He came out every bit as bad as before, and worse. Now what am I to do?"