The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1911-08-12

The father and son we're about to rise
from the table, when a gust OF sleet
and snow struck the big club window
near which they had been sitting. The
elder Dillon looked at the glowing
crate fire with humorous twinkle in
his eyes
"You don't want to go out tonight,
dad" said Dillon. smiling. And I'm
not very keen about 1t, either"
The elder Dillon gave sigh of re-
lief
81 should like to. see how the
daughter of my old friend looks on
the stage" he said, "but we can go
again, can't we? This isn't the only
night of the play. Let's stay at home
and talk"
Dillon led the way to the smoking
room 1t was empty, yet the warm
moving color of the fire and the soft
light from the carefully shaded lamps
gave it an air of occupation friend
ly air.
Lets stay at home and talk" re-
peated the father, little sadly, as he
sank into one of the arm chairs near
the fire. IF your mother were alive
I shouldn't be talking of club as
| home"
The son took the other chair and
lit cigar
dad, do you know I often wish we
had home-of course we have rooms
and very luxurius rooms-but a
home is different"
"You might have home if you mar
ried." The father smiled with his lips,
but his eyes became serious. "But I
suppose busy young man like you
has no time to think of that. At your
age / had been married two years. I
remember the day I first saw your
mother as well as if it were yester-
day."
The elder mans face lighted up, and
for the moment he looked as young
as his son. And / tell you, Barry,
wasn't a rich mans son, as you are
and when saw the girl I liked
and knew she was intended for me
from the first-the thought of mar
riage meant a long consideration Of
the money question, tell you! was
not only poor, but my father, with his
six children and his rack-rented Ker
ry farm, was poor, too. 1t was in
Dublin first saw her. She was com
ing out of the confessional in the Jes
uits church, and she passed me, and
I passed her again going out. Your
mothers face was picture, Barry
often think of that fine passage il
'Evangeline, where
"You saw mother in church first
at Confession" said Dillon, his colol
rising and his eyes becoming lumin
Gus. At time like this, the younger
Dillon showed his real nature. HI
was no longer the impassive, cold
conventional man, with the laborious
ly acquired manner of his college Sc
destroying all spontaneity. ION m!
word, dad, it's queer!"
"Queer?" repeated the father, ;
slight irritation in his tone. Queer
Why should it be queer? She turned
J out to be the daughter of one of TIL
professors of the university, and on
, of the priests introduced me-"
"Oh!" said the son, rather enigmat
{ ically. 81 don't mean that that wa
, queer"
, The father had drifted into a re
verie. There was the sound of crack
ling coal, of servant drawing tn
J curtains, for the snow was beatin
/. against the window panes, of pas
: sing automobile.
. 81 meant" the son resumed, with a
3 effort, that" he was not in the hs
r bit of making condolences to his fl
. Their, though his father made man
3 condolences to him, s'that l have ha
J. almost the same experienced"
r He paused, his face flaming in tn
7 light of the fire. His father awok
0 from his reverie, and his eye
t twinkled. He was tempted to laugh
?. but he saw by his sons face that tn
r moment was very serious.
"Yes?'' he said
}, eyes," said his son, shading his fac
il with his hand ION Saturday l wer
!. to confession at st. Stephens, fc
t your anniversary, you know-and jus
under blaze from the sunset cam
|. in young woman; made way fl
r her, and opened the door of the vest
2 bule. She thanked me. / saw ht
J. again as she was going out-and da'
l thought of those lines from 'Evang
line, too-you've quoted them ofte
d enough! She had the ioveIiest fac
; and the loveliest voice, and"
il Tears came into the elder Dillon
# eyes; he was sentimental; and h
e wanted this only son of his to MARI,
and here was glimpse of hope. Hit
s erto his attempts at matchmaking ha
!. failed.
l. 1T is queer" he said, but 70
couldn't see good woman in bette
o place. You remember the meetin
r of Dante and Beatrice, in the Ne
Life don't you?"
e "Oh, dad, you're always making Ii
n orarv a1luSi0nS-yOu know wo uo1n,