'As Gold in the Furnace' Part 7

"Very good," said the genial President; "arrange everything with your prefect; but remember the matter drops unless the response is generous among the students. It would not do to send half a feast."

"There won't be any danger of that, Father," said Jack Beecham confidently.

"Very well. G.o.d bless you for your charitable intentions," and they were dismissed.

Beecham was correct. The students, almost to a man, became enthusiastic over the proposed feast. Abundance of provisions from the boys' boxes was donated. Every boy, instinct with the spirit of the season, gave something and gave it willingly. Some were offended because they were not allowed to give as much as their generosity prompted. One or two who were inadvertently neglected were very much vexed over not being asked to give their share. Many wondered why the beautiful idea had not occurred to them before. Others were so certain in advance of the success of the banquet that they then and there proposed to make it an annual occurrence.

The little black wagon of the Sisters--and who does not know those wagons! a familiar sight in nearly every city in the Union--made several trips to the college on the Wednesday of Christmas week.

Hitherto the boys had paid little attention to this vehicle as it daily drove modestly to the door of the kitchen. On this day it came triumphantly into the boys' yard, amid the l.u.s.ty cheers of the generous-hearted lads. Even old "Mike," the driver, noted everywhere in town for his delicious brogue, was an object of special interest.

Owing to the excitement of the occasion--the boys afterward declared this most solemnly--the driver performed the remarkable feat of making the old gray mare, which had seen almost as many years as her driver, canter, actually, positively _canter_, up to the cla.s.sroom door where the provisions were stored. In the after-discussion of this startling event authentic doc.u.ments were called for, and as they were not forthcoming the cantering incident remains an historic doubt until this day. This old gray mare was known----

The boys would not let the two nuns load the wagon. There were too many strong arms and willing hands for that. At last all the boxes were on the wagon, and old "Mike" mounted his chariot once more. This was a slow operation, for the old man's joints were stiff and he was no longer active. When one of the boys put the lines into his knotted rheumatic fingers, he broke through his usual taciturnity and said:

"You are good boys: good boys. G.o.d bless yees all."

"Three cheers for Mike!" shouted a lively youngster in the crowd. The signal was taken up, and it is safe to say that the old man never received such an ovation before in all his life.

As the leather curtain fell the cheering boys caught a last glimpse of the faces of two smiling Sisters, jubilant over the fact that they were carrying home an unwonted treasure for their old people. When the wagon had driven clear of the mob of good-natured boys, Jack Beecham ran alongside, and lifting the flap said to the Sisters:

"Twenty of us are coming by eleven o'clock to-morrow. So you are to do no work. We are going to set the tables and serve the old people.

Please tell the Mother-Superior that she and the Sisters are to stand by and give the orders, and we will do the rest."

And the feast itself! What a revelation the inside of the convent was to these gay, careless, happy boys. The sight of so much pain and suffering and dependence and resignation was to them a revelation indeed.

To Ambrose Bracebridge, who eagerly accepted the invitation to don an ap.r.o.n and turn waiter for the occasion, the scene was one of absorbing interest. It will be remembered by those who have read the second book of the series of three which deal with the fortunes of the St.

Cuthbert's students, that at this time Ambrose was a convert to Catholicism of about six months' standing, and consequently had seen little or nothing of the workings of the vast fields of practical charity within the Catholic Church. The immense Catholic charities of almost every imaginable kind which dot the land are so familiar to ordinary Catholics that they scarcely cause comment or notice. To Ambrose Bracebridge all was new and wonderful. As a waiter on the old people he did not prove a success. He did not do much serving, but spent most of his time watching the old people feasting, and the good Sisters looking after their comfort.

"A penny for your thoughts," said the chaplain of the inst.i.tution as he came up to Ambrose.

"I was thinking, Father," said Ambrose, amid the rattle of knives and forks, "what a wonderful charity this is."

"Yes? What impresses you most deeply?"

"The retiring modesty of the Sisters, I think, and the wonderful way they have of managing these old people."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, I am impressed with the docility and evident grat.i.tude these old people show toward the Sisters. How is the inst.i.tution supported, Father?"

"By the charity of all cla.s.ses. Have you not often seen the Sisters'

modest wagon on the streets? It seems to me that this one charity has touched the tender spot in the heart of the American people. Did you ever know a merchant, or a hotel manager, Catholic or non-Catholic, to refuse the Sisters?"

"Never," replied the boy.

"Yet, after all, this is Catholic charity working in only one direction. Did you ever realize what the Catholic Church is doing for the State in this country? It seems to me that the State would be simply overwhelmed if all the Catholic orphanages, asylums, hospitals, academies, protectories, deaf-mute inst.i.tutes, and, above all, the vast system of parochial schools, which make, literally, a network of Catholic charity over the land--if, I say, all these were closed and the State had to do the work."

"Some, of pessimistic view," continued the chaplain, who was evidently quite optimistic in his own views, "are always grumbling over the fact that many non-Catholic inst.i.tutions of learning are so richly endowed, and that Catholics of the country are doing nothing for education. I believe there never was a greater mistake. It is true that, as yet, there are few large Catholic endowments. They will come in time. The money paid by Catholics in the interest of Catholic education--and, mind you, at the same time they are paying their pro rata share of taxes for the support of all secular inst.i.tutions, including the public schools--the money paid by Catholics, I say, throughout the country, makes a magnificent showing when compared to the few highly endowed secular universities."

"Is not this a rather optimistic view, Father?" asked Bracebridge.

"I do not think so," was the reply. "Ponder over it, and you will see that what I say is correct."

"Here, you lazy rascal--oh! excuse me, Father--here, Ambrose, you lazy rascal, get some of that cranberry sauce from that table. You would not earn your salt as a waiter, Brosie," and Roy Henning, red-faced and excitedly busy, laughingly pushed Ambrose in the direction of the sideboard.

Thus the talk with the chaplain was abruptly broken off. Nevertheless, Bracebridge had received much food for thought for future days. He pondered to good effect, and the result was that his graduation speech at the end of that year was on "Catholicity, a State Aid," which was subsequently the cause of much comment.

One event occurred during the old folks' dinner which was of great interest to some of our friends. Roy Henning, during the latter part of the feast, when the demand for the services of the voluntary waiters was not so urgent, frequently pa.s.sed a few words with the chaplain who had acted as a sort of honorary general superintendent of the banquet.

On one of these occasions Jack Beecham happened to be pa.s.sing with a plate of fruit for the table in one direction, and Bracebridge was carrying something in the opposite. Both were near enough to inadvertently hear portions of what appeared to the priest to be a very interesting revelation. Both boys heard the end of a sentence:

"Seminary! You?"

"Yes, Father, please G.o.d."

"When?"

"Next year."

"For this diocese?"

"No, my own."

"Ah! I am sorry."

Bracebridge and Beecham exchanged glances as they pa.s.sed each other.

What a revelation was here for both in regard to Henning's conduct.

Did not this explain a thousand things?

As soon as the services of the two amateur waiters could be dispensed with, they came together in one corner of the room, and while wiping their fingers on the ap.r.o.ns the thoughtful Sisters had provided for them, they eagerly discussed their accidental discovery, but in a rather curious fashion.

"Please, Brosie, give me a good kick," said Jack.

"Why?" asked his companion.

"Just to think, numskulls that we are, that we never thought just this about dear old Roy."

"I do not see how we could. Roy never gave us the slightest hint."

"No, but if we were not such ninnies--Oh! I say, Ambrose, do you think it is true?"

"No doubt of it. 'Seminary--next year--his own diocese' tells the tale most conclusively for me."

"I'm so glad! If any one of us fellows is worthy of being a priest, it surely is Roy."

"Amen. But why has he kept it such a secret? Now all his actions are clear to me, although I confess I think some of them are mistaken or ill-advised."

"I won't admit that until I know more," remarked loyal Jack.