this is awfully good of you!" exclaimed Shock, going to
meet him.

"It's the little lad," said Carroll. "It's Patsy, he's breakin' the
heart av him, an' he wants to see you, and, your riverince, it's
meself--I want to--" The voice broke down completely.

"Come in, come in!" cried Shock, his tears flowing fast. "Come, Patsy,
do you want to see me? Come on, old chap, I want you, too." He took the
little cripple in his arms and held him tight while his tears fell upon
Patsy's face and hands.

"Is it for your mother?" whispered Patsy in an awestruck tone.

"Yes, yes, Patsy dear," said Shock, who was fast losing control of
himself, the long pent-up grief breaking through all barriers of
self-control. "She's gone from me, Patsy lad."

"But," said the little boy, lifting up his beautiful face in wonder.
"Sure, isn't she wid Jesus Himself and the blessed angels?"

"Oh, yes, Patsy, my boy! she is, and it's not right to grieve too much,
but I cannot help it," said Shock, regaining control of himself. "But I
am glad you came in to tell me, and we'll all try to be good men so
that some day we'll all go there, too."

For a long time they sat looking out on the moon-lit lake and the
distant hills, Shock telling the little lad he held in his arms of the
beautiful country to which his mother had gone.

That night was the beginning of better things for the big Irishman. The
revenge he had cherished for so many months passed out of his heart,
and among his closest friends and his warmest companions Shock could
count from that time forth Tim Carroll.

XVII

BETTY'S LAST WORDS

There is a certain stimulus in grief which lends unreal strength to
endure, but Nature will be avenged in a physical and emotional
reaction, all the more terrible that it is unexpected. Then the full
weight of the sorrow presses upon the heart already exhausted, and the
sense of loss becomes the more painful because it can be fairly
estimated, and the empty place can be more truly measured because it is
seen in its relation to the ordinary life.

So it was with Shock. The first sharp stab of grief was over, and now
he carried with him the long ache of a wound that would not heal for
many a day. His mother had filled a large part of his life. As far back
into childhood as his memory could go, there she stood between him and
the great world, his sure defence against all evil, his refuge in all
sorrow; and as he grew into manhood she made for her