e, no
bitterness--yet eating his heart out. Pitiful, really; and the worst
thing about it is that you can't help him, for his secret will die with
him. Bring him to me sometime, and let me know before you come so I may
be at home."

"You don't think there's anything crooked about him, Father, do you?"
said John, who had sat tilted back against the wall and now brought the
front legs of his chair to the floor with a bang.

"What do you mean by crooked. John?" asked the priest.

"Well, he blew in here from nowheres, bringin' a couple of trunks and
a hat-box, and not much in 'em, from what Kitty says. And he might blow
out again some fine night, leavin' his own full of bricks, carting
off instead some I keep on storage for my customers, full of God knows
what!--but somethin' that's worth money, or they wouldn't have me take
care of 'em. There ain't nothin' to prevent him, for he's got the run
of the place day and night. And Kitty's that dead stuck on him she'll
believe anything he says."

Kitty wheeled around in her seat, her big strong fist tightly clinched.
"Hold your tongue, John Cleary!" she cried indignantly. "I'd knock any
man down--I don't care how big he was--that would be a-sayin' that of ye
without somethin' to back it up, and that's what'll happen to ye if ye
don't mend your manners. Can't ye see, Father, that Mr. Felix O'Day is
the real thing, and no sham about him? I do, and Kling does, and so does
that darlin' Masie, and every man, woman, and child around here that can
get their hands on him or a word wid him. Shame on ye, John! Tell him
so, Father Cruse!"

The priest kept silent, waiting until the slight family squall--never
very long nor serious between John and Kitty--had spent itself.

"Well, I'm not sayin' anything against Mr. O'Day, Kitty," broke in John.
"I'm only askin' for information. What do you think of him, Father?
What's he up to, anyhow? There ain't any of 'em can fool ye. I don't
want to watch him--I ain't got no time--and I won't if he's all right."

The priest rose from his chair and stood looking down at Kitty, his
hands clasped behind his back. "You believe in him, do you not?"

"I do--up to the handle-and I don't care who knows it!"

"Then I would not worry, John Cleary, if I were you."

"Well, what does she know about it, Father?"

"What every good woman always knows about every good man. And now I must
go."

Chapter VII

As was to be expected, Kitty's first wor