A Boy Knight

By MARTIN J. SCOTT, S. J.

CONTENTS

A BOY KNIGHT

Chapter I

Cross-Roads

When the boys had gone a block and turned the corner at Gody's drug store, Frank Mulvy made an excuse to loiter a moment, and then turning quickly, ran up the avenue. He overtook the poor man and handing him the lunch which he had in his pocket, said:

"I'm sorry I have no money, sir, but here is something to eat."

"God bless you, boy," the old man sighed, as he almost snatched the little package.

The boy had no lunch that day.

Frank Mulvy was fourteen years old. He was a freshman at Regal, a member of the football team and the secretary of the "Boy's Club" attached to St. Leonard's Church. The office was elective and Frank had been chosen with hardly a dissenting vote.

The Club met three times a week in a large room of the parish house where the boys, about ninety in number, had a good library, billiard tables, games of various kinds and other attractions. Once a week the priest in charge, Father Boone, gave them a little talk on something of interest and profit to boys. Usually these talks were very welcome to the lads as Father Boone did not so much talk virtue as illustrate it, and that not merely by stories, but rather by his own way of saying and doing things. The boys liked him.

Frank was Father Boone's right hand man, and the director was glad that the boys had elected him secretary, although he had given no indication of his preference. He allowed the boys the greatest latitude and found generally that they did the right thing. While Father Boone would be the last to give it as the cause, the fact was that they did the right thing because he himself did. He always endeavored to create an atmosphere of trust and manliness. The morale of the Club was proof that he had succeeded, for altogether the boys were a fine set, and the director considered that Frank was the best of the lot.

Father Boone was very liberal, but if he once drew a line he never allowed it to be crossed. The boys knew that. They used to say, "Father Boone is all right but if he tells you what to do, you'd better do it."

One day, just five weeks before Christmas, Father Boone called Frank aside and said to him:

"I have a bit of good news for you. A friend who is interested in the work of the Club has given me one hundred dollars to spend as I like on you boys. You are all very fond of music, and I am thinking of buying some fine records for our victrola. What do you say?"

Frank replied, "I guess it's all right, Father. You know best what the boys want."

The priest added, "I have another plan also, but I am not certain which to adopt. I was thinking of taking the boys down to hear John McCormack. We could get ninety seats together—it's far ahead—and treat the crowd to a ride both ways. How does that strike you?"

"Pretty good, Father," said Frank. "But," he continued, "suppose we put it up to the fellows. Then you are sure to satisfy them."

"Capital!" exclaimed the priest, "and now you go ahead and put it to a vote."

It was surprising how short a time it took to pass the word around. Soon every one knew that something out of the ordinary was up.

When the boys had assembled, Frank put the matter before the Club, and all without hesitation declared for John McCormack. They had heard his records on the victrola, and were desirous of seeing and hearing himself. When Frank informed the director, Father Boone said:

"That's all hunky dory," an expression he used when he was well satisfied, and when the committee which the boys had sent to thank him for his kind thought appeared, he said:

"That's all right, boys; that's the best fun I get, doing something for you fellows."

After that, McCormack's were the only records to be heard in that club room. Every boy played his favorite, time and again.

"I wonder if he sings much