The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1921-06-18

towns with berserk fury. The Wick
low folk scurried along the streets
in shivering haste, going about their
tasks unwiiiingly and praying for
cessation of the whitening blast. At
times it did die away, giving place
to bright spells of watery sunshine,
all too short lived to tighten the
spirit and only emphasizing the
harshness of the storm.
During one of these mild spells
the ancient musician-seer again re-
appeared in front of Dineen's door,
his meager overcoat wrapped tightly
about him, his battered caubeen
drawn far down over his eyes, his
hands bare and blue, but his violin
warmly encased in an old green
baize bag. whence he presently with
drew it and began to play. Not
long, however, did the performance
last, for an angry gust came sour
rying down the street bearing watery
warning of the coming shower. The
old man sought shelter for himself
and his violin within Dineen's buck
ster shop.
To Irene's eyes he appeared more
haggard, older, more worn and weary
than when she last saw him. He
uttered a remark about the weather
and said he would soon be going.
He was going away and would not
be in Wicklow again, so he had
stopped to play for her the "Coolun"
the last time before he departed. She
replied nothing, merely nodding her
comprehension, but she was looking
at him very curiously, studying him
very carefully; taking in every de-
tail of his ragged garments, the
CLINT of his gray eyes, the sure grip
of his hand on the old green baize
bag. And while the hail bounced
and volleyed on the frozen street
outside and against the windows and
half-open door, and the wild wind
rushed screaming between the scat
tered houses, these strangely con-
trasting friends gave each other
glance for glance in mute inquiry
as though they sought reflections of
the inmost mind in the outer habili-
ments Of countenance or costume.
Neither did the old man fail to take
in and appreciate the beautiful pic
ture before him, the rosy checked,
sad-eyed girl leaning her 1.-the form
against the counter, the dark blue
Of her simple house dress emphasiz-
ing the blue of her eyes, the delicate
health tints of her complexion and
the neatly bound strands of waving
dark hair. She was, indeed, a splen-
did daughter of a sturdy race that
needs no eugenics but the eternal
principles of truth and right living
to guide them in their physical des-
tiny. For several minutes they stood
thus, so mutually engrossed as to
be unconscious of what otherwise
had been an awkward pause. Then
the shower ceased; the sun vouch-
safed a watery smile, and with OBJ
vious reluctance the old fiddler an
nounced his departure.
Goodbye, MISS" he said with
emotion. God bless We! 1 won't
see We again so / want to shake
yeer hand once before I go. IT'S
the thrue heart is in We indade."
He held out his hand which she
grasped heartily, replying with emo
ton: Goodbye. God bless yourself
for the true heart that's in you"
Then she dropped his hand and,
leaning forward, grasped him by the
shoulders. "Ah," she said, with an
effort to control her feelings. do
you think I've been looking at the
gray eyes of you every day for
the past month without recognizing
you? Pat Mccarthy what in Gods
name ever happened to you?'
Irene, +" His voice died in
his throat He turned to the door
Goodbye, Irene, 1 must be going"
Misery was in every syllable.
Indeed, and you're not going, Pat.
What's come over you all? And
what do you mean by dressing up
that way? Wasn't it bad enough
to-but I asked you: how in the
name of God did it ever happen?"
"A railway wreck, Irene. Oh,
made the company pay. It cost
them thousands of dollars, but it
cost me-yourself I'm going now.
I'll write and tell you all about it.
I shouldn't have come, know; but
oh, how l wanted to see ye once
again, Irene. And l thought you'd
never know me with the whiskers
and all. And I practiced and prac-
ticed the way I'd talk and everything.
Forgive me, avourneen. Goodbye. /"
His voice was strong, and there was
decision in his movement toward
the door.
Quickly Irene intercepted him.
"No, no, no" she said frankly.
You're not going away, Patsy, in
deed not You're not going away
again never going"
"You wouldn't be wanting me like
this, Irene. You wouldn't be want
ing to be going around with a Grip
pie, making show of you"
when you're after taking off all
them make-ups that's giving you
the appearance of an old man, you'll
be no disgrace at all" Her careful
study had convinced her of this. Be
sides the hump on his back was not
such terrible deformity as he him.
self believed. Yet, it was unques-
tionably deformity, quite a deform-
ity. Not many girls would overlook it.