Hardly had the door closed behind him when Frank threw his arms about his mother, and burst into renewed sobs. Mrs. Mulvy was puzzled and distressed but she had full faith in her boy. She let him have his cry out, and then said gently: "Don't mind, dear, you are mother's best boy; she knows this will come out all right."
"O mother, if you feel that way, and will trust me, without asking me a single question, I promise you it will come out more than all right."
"Very well, darling," she replied, "I'll say nothing again on the matter except you yourself bring it up."
"O, I'm so glad, mother, because now I can see it through. I don't mind what others say or think as long as it is all right with you."
"But I feel so sorry for Father Boone," she sighed. "He is apparently all at sea. He thinks the world of you, Frank, and that is what hurts him."
"I know, mother, and that is what hurts me, too, but there is no help for it at present. He's got to get all the facts first—and I can't—" He broke off and then added, shyly, "You know, mother, I think we are a good deal the same. Only, of course, his will is so strong, he won't show what he feels. The other day there were tears in his eyes, but he didn't know I was seeing him."
"Mother is proud of her boy to hear him talk that way. I'm so glad that you're not angry with poor Father Boone—it is hard on him."
"Maybe I would be, mother, if I did not know him so well."
A great load was off Frank's mind and the tension was gone. Nothing could matter now. He could face anything and everything. He realized that, at most, only a few days would intervene before Bill Daly would clear up the mystery.
(V)