A Boy Knight Part 6

The priest listened sympathetically, and when she paused, he asked, "Is he home now?"

"He is, your Reverence."

"Well, I'll go over and see him."

He showed her to the door, told her to say nothing to her husband, and promised he would be over inside an hour. Some thirty or forty minutes later he was poking his way up the dingy and dirty stairs to the Daly flat. Bill was out. No doubt the home had few attractions for him. Mr.

Daly had been pretty badly shaken up by the encounter with his son, and sat fairly sobered on the edge of the bed. The priest entered, made a sign to Mrs. Daly to withdraw, and crossing the room, sat down alongside Daly.

"Well, Michael," he began, "I have come over to see you because I know you need a friend. You know I married you, Michael, and baptized Willie.

You were a fine man then, none better, and you and the Missus were very proud of the baby. Well, Michael, you have got clean off the track--and it does not pay, does it, Michael? You had your nice little home and a tender wife, and a boy you were proud of. And all that is gone now, Michael. And pretty soon you'll be gone, too. It does not pay, does it?

For the bit of pleasure you get from the liquor, see the price you have paid. It was not the ten cents nor the quarter you put over the bar, but it is this ruined home, Michael Daly. It is a slave and a sloven you have made of your wife, and it is driving the boy to the police, you are doing. Now, in G.o.d's Name, Michael, stop it. It is not too late. I will help you, and the wife will help you and Willie will help you. I know you had a fight with him just now, but that is past. It was the liquor did it. Tell me, Michael, you will be a man and cut the stuff out?"

Tears were forming in the man's eyes as the priest looked at his upturned face.

"I'm a beast and no man," he moaned, "I'm down and out. I'm a curse to myself and my own. I'm not worth your bothering about me. Let me alone.

Let Mike Daly go his way, he's done for. The devil of whisky has got him and he'll get him for good some day."

"Mike Daly," said the priest firmly, "you are down, G.o.d knows, but you are not out. And you are not going to be."

"That's all very well. It's that easy to say, but you don't know the grip that this devil has on me. I've tried and tried and tried, only to fall back again into the gutter. I tell you it's all up with me."

"If it is up with you, it is because you want it to be so," said the priest. "But I tell you, Mike Daly, you are on the brink of h.e.l.l and the only thing that keeps you from falling into it, is the slender barrier of life. Do you realize that you may be called out of life to judgment any moment without warning? My G.o.d! man, where is your faith? If you break the law of the government, you know what would happen! And is not G.o.d's law more sacred? Do you suppose you can trifle with the Almighty?

Because G.o.d does not punish you on the spot, do you think you can ignore Him?"

By this time Daly was quite himself. He had never had such a talking to.

The words went right into his soul. He knew about punishment for a man if he breaks the law of the country. And it surely was true that G.o.d's law is more serious. That hit him hard. The priest saw that the man was wavering, and he continued:

"Now, Michael, I'll tell you what we will do. But first I shall ask you an honest question, man to man. Do you want to get away from the vile stuff?"

"I do," fairly roared Daly.

"Good," said the priest, "that's half the battle. Now, I want you to know that I am the best friend you've got on earth outside your own family. I shall ask you to do nothing but what is for your own good.

Will you trust me?"

"I will, so help me G.o.d!" he shouted.

"And it is G.o.d who is going to help you," said the priest. "You are going to be a man again, Mike Daly. I guarantee that. _Do . . . you . . . understand . . . that?_" said the priest slowly and firmly.

"I do," answered the now aroused and interested man.

"Then listen: You are just a 'b.u.m' now--a low down, bar-room 'b.u.m.'

n.o.body wants you around. You can't get a job anywhere. I am going to get you a good job. You won't go back on the priest if he gives his word for you?"

"So help me! No," cried Mike.

"Now, another thing," said the priest. "When you went to church every Sunday, and received Holy Communion once a month, you were a good G.o.d-fearing man. That's where we begin. You make a friend of G.o.d first of all. It's hard enough to go through life right with G.o.d and with His help, but it is impossible without it. It's years since you have been to church, and the Sacraments, and you know these have been the most unhappy years of your life."

Just then Bill entered. He was surprised to see the priest talking to his father. Immediately he supposed that he had come to complain about the breakage and mischief at the Club. But he was set right almost immediately.

"William," said the priest, kindly and proudly, "come over here and shake hands with your father."

The boy hesitated.

Again the priest spoke: "William, come and take the hand of a man that is never going to touch liquor in his life again. Your father is a new man."

"O father, father!" cried Bill, as he rushed across the room.

No words. Tears of the father and son as the two embraced.

The priest, meanwhile, had gone into the kitchen to tell the good news to Mrs. Daly. She rushed in to find the father and son weeping over each other.

"O Michael, Michael," she shouted, "I knew the Blessed Mother would never let you go to the end as you were!" And she fairly fell on them both.

The priest withdrew, and would have left altogether, but that he had not finished his work. After a while, he came into the room and said, "All three of you kneel down." They got on their knees. "May G.o.d Almighty, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, bless you."

"Amen" responded the three.

"And may the Blessed Mother help and protect you."

"Amen" again came the response.

They arose. It was a transfiguration. Determination and pride on Daly's face, love on Mrs. Daly's, and gladness on the boy's.

"Now, Michael, I want you to go to confession next Sat.u.r.day night and receive Holy Communion on Sunday," said the priest. "You do your part, and G.o.d will do His. You have given Him no opportunity to help you these past years. You have kept away from Him, your best Friend and Helper."

"Never again," said Daly, firmly.

"Straighten up now," said the priest, "and come to see me Monday morning. I'll have a job for you by that time. Here's a few dollars to get some clothes. You can pay me back when you have it to spare.

Good-bye."

For sometime after the priest went away, they spoke not a word. They could not, for something seemed to lodge in their throats. When Mrs.

Daly found that she could use her voice, she went to a little box on the bureau, kept carefully in the midst of all the confusion, and taking out her rosary of the Blessed Virgin, she went over to her husband and son and said, "And now let us thank her." They knelt down, said the beads and finished with the prayer:

"Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope; to thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary."

There is joy even in heaven over a sinner that doth penance.

(IV)

The effects of Father Boone's visit at the Daly home began to show at once; the father, mother and son were transformed. Michael Daly spoke of it first. "I've not had a day's luck since I've been away from the Church, and I'm going to get back."

"O Blessed Mother, do you hear him?" exclaimed Mrs. Daly. "Holy Mary, pray for us sinners now."

"I've had my last drink, so help me!" continued Daly. "I've said it often before, and gone back to the dirty stuff. But something new has come into my life. Father Boone's words burned right into my soul. And every word he said was true, so help me!"

All the while, Bill was wondering. Could it be real? It all seemed so new to him. For eight years he had heard nothing but blasphemy and abuse from his father, and here he was now, talking and acting like a man. Was it a reality? He could hardly believe his senses. But there was his father arm and arm with his mother. That certainly was real. It was years since he had seen anything like that before. The sight, so unusual, began to overpower him. He ran to his father and cried out, "O Dad, Dad, Dad!"

For a moment he could say no more.