Up spoke Norah, her sweet voice not quite steady, her cheeks crimson—but they all heard her: “It’s a large gold watch. Why can’t we give it to Father Kelly?”
The Vicar-General’s lifted hand stilled the shout that rose.
“Why not?” called he. “Father Kelly is not a young lady, but he is popular.”
And Father Kelly, putting both hands over his blushes, ran away from the frantic roar of applause and laughter. The Vicar-General pursued him to say:
“You were right, Kelly; she is a good girl—and a wise one!”
Perhaps the only person in the hall who was not either shouting or screaming, according to sex, was Norah’s mother; and the cloud on her face lightened when she saw Norah coming to her on Pat Barnes’s arm and Pat’s face aglow.
Freda saw them too; she slipped her hand into her father’s arm.
“Liebchen!” said he, stroking it with his rough fingers, “I will get thee a watch some day, never fear!”
But it was not the thought of a watch that made Freda’s heart lighter than for many a day. “I don’t want a watch,” said she. “Oh, I’m sorry for Norah, who can’t even remember about her father!”
THE END