“Love me,
Adorable Mother!
Mary,
I worship no other.
Save me,
O, graciously save me
I pray!
Let my Darkness be turned into Day
By the Light of Thy Grace
And Thy Face,
I pray!”

She continued the exquisite refrain on the keys for a while, then slowly turned to the man beside her.

“The one Mass I still love,” she murmured absently, “––memories of childhood, I suppose––when the Sisters made me sing the solo––I was only ten years old.” ... She shrugged her shoulders: “You know, in those days, I was a little devil,” she said seriously.

He smiled.

“I really was, Jim,––all over everything and wild as a swallow. I led the pack; Shadow Hill held us in 243 horror. I remember I fought our butcher’s boy once––right in the middle of the street–––”

“Why?”

“He did something to a cat which I couldn’t stand.”

“Did you whip him?”

“Oh, Jim, it was horrid. We both were dreadfully battered. And the constable caught us both, and I shall never, never forget my mother’s face!–––”

She gazed down at the keys of the piano, touched them pensively.