Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-06-28


was lingering over his Sunday
morning breakfast. trying to keep
IL himself awake with the strong
coffee prepared by the house
keeper. his distant cousin. Kate Mac
Avoy She stood a little behind his chair.
in a respectful position. but her hand
some pink face bore an expression In
which irritation clashed with affection
He was quite aware of her attitude. and
his lips smiled, though his thick eye
brows were punched in a frown. His blue
eyes were so kindly that it was only by
half shutting them and frowning that he
could make them seem stern. His round,
flexible face was full of humorous lines
which could In a moment turn severe.
Long years Of work among the Italians in
the crowded ward in which his church
was set had taught him that he could
best achieve health for the souls and
bodies of his ignorant parishoners by
system of scolding and harrying-a sys-
tenn so distasteful to him that he often
reflected that every day of his life his own
words to people made him sup sorrow
with g spoon of grief. but it was little OF
that effect il had on them. faith.
You'll stick to what you said last
night father" Kate remarked at length
in trembling tone.
Il will I'm determined you'll take
vacation for month. I've my own rea-
sons.
We'll discuss it agin' she said. de-
family. But now. father. you'll lie down
a bit?
Kate MacAvoy" doomed the little IA
Their: you know I'm expected at the Sun
day school.
And you up all night till airly mass
wild Pasquale di Pietro. / knew he'd not
die this time; he niver does. My curses
on that family, Blanca di Pietro's in the
hall now along wild that pushin' mob
that's been dhroppin' in since O'Clock.
shud think she'd he ashamed to show her
face the way her family keeps dyin' on
You. and bein' borrun and marryin' and
fightin'--
Have conduct. woman cried Father
kinsellagh: and open the door. for I
hea- Michael Mac Mahon in the hall.
Kate obeyed. and Michael MacMahon
the superintendent of the Sunday school
OF ST Angeles. entered. his broad Shout
ders dwarfing everything in the room.
Father kinsellagh liked best to see him
at his teamster work. his strong body in
blue shirt. comfortably hunched for
ward. his big mellow voice calling greet
ings TO his fellow-drivers on the streets
But even in his ill-fitting Sunday clothes
MacMahon was a pleasant sight His
eyes were very blue and honest under his
irregular black locks OF hair. and his long
than to draw down. He cast timid look
at Kate who shifted at him. and then. for
getting her. he made long stride forward
and beamed down affectionately on the
little father.
We'll. Michael. and how are you~'
asked the priest.
SURE It's like rain on a thirsty field
to see YOU. father And how are you
afther your vacation. father?
of mind never to take another"
grumbled Father kinSellagh. "Troth I
leave a peaceable congregation for
three weeks. and when / return yester-
day what do find? The Di Pietros
cursing and raving politely against the
few Irish I do keep in NV church. and
daring to hint ! favor We. and setting
all the other Italians by the ears. And.
Michael the black curGes PaSquale
poured on YOU in PARTICULAR
MacMahon's blue eyes burned in his
angry face.
Thin Di Pietros," he hurst out. "As
sure as eggs is mate. the divil is busy
wild thin the whole wv the day. II liver
spake the civil worrud to ouid Pas
ouale agin NAV no child pray over me
grave. and
stop that cursinR this mortal min
ute" shouted the little father. And
YOU woman" he added. Whirl,ng in his
chair TO look at Kate whose face was
alight with laughter you might be
doing better than grinning like an
5madhon at the honest lad that's too
good for you. anyway
This direct reference - the act that
Kate had for a year steadily rejected
Michael's addresses suhcued both of
them. and the little father himself. for
he said in gentier tone:
You say Blanca d. P.etro is here.
Kate? I'll let her in
He went to the dining room door re-
fecting that there were worlds within
worlds in this ward in which he lived
a little Bohemia a little Rusria a lit
tie orient each with its characteristic
favor its own gestures, tones. colors;
and now he was opening the door on a
bit OF little Italy. The hall was almost
full of people; its dimness was softened
by blazing bits of color; here a yellow
scarf. there crimson shawl. Noisy
whispers ceased as the father glared
out; soft, dark eyes cleaned at him: