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By Root 10316 0

Lonigans sat in the rear of the hall. Mrs. Lonigan strained forward in a visible effort to devour every syllable that dropped from the tongue of the noble priest. Patrick Lonigan sat back listening, as comfortable as he could possibly be seated on a camp chair in a hot and crowded hall. Once or twice he yawned, and his wife nudged him. He mopped the perspiration from his brow. At Mama’s side the two youngest darlings laughed, squirmed and childishly muttered, much to her annoyance. She nudged Papa, who was just falling into a drowse, and said that William and Frances took the show away from the others; why there wasn’t a girl who looked as pretty, or who had acted as well as Frances; and William was a pretty handsome boy, too.

“Uh huh!” the old man said.

“And we don’t owe a penny on their education,” she said.

“Uh huh!” he grunted.

They listened, and their pastor’s words made them feel that they had participated in a great work, that they had done the Will of the Great Man Who sat on the Heavenly throne.

She strained forward again to listen attentively while the priest explained that it would be a shame if St. Patrick’s could not dedicate, from among this class on the stage, a few lives to the service of God. Now was the time for the graduates to consider whether or not they had the call, for the mothers and fathers to encourage their children who might have the call, to resolve that they would put all aside and prepare for the consecrated work of the priest and the holy work of the nun. As Mrs. Lonigan listened, a dream of hope lit an ecstasy on her thin face. At this moment Loretta said something to Martin and the two children giggled. Mrs. Lonigan, severely angry, pinched Fritzie and warned her to be quiet. She told Loretta that she acted as if she had not been brought up in a good home and taught politeness and manners. She told Loretta to have respect for the priest and the people listening to him, and she made more disturbance than her daughter.

III

Facing the graduates, the priest gravely said: “And now comes the painful duty, my dear young friends, of bidding you... farewell. It is a duty which I would gladly shirk, if shirk it I could. But . Tempus fugit! Time flies! Time is sometimes like a thief in the night, or like some lonely bird that comes to the banquet hall of this earth where man is feasting; it comes from a black unknown, flies through while man eats, and is gone out in the black night; and I may add, my dear young friends, the black night is black indeed, unless one has abided by the will of Gawd. Friends, it would be my fondest wish to keep. you here with us at St. Patrick’s, studying, serving the Lord, playing your happy innocent games of childhood out there in our large playground; but ..

“Tempus Fugit! For alas ! Time flies!

“Tonight you put aside the joys of childhood to become young men and young women. And just as we, who are older, now recollect the joys and happiness of childhood, so will you one day remember your golden days with us here at St. Patrick’s. They will be memories of gold and silver, memories richer than all the treasures of this world. And, my dear young friends, I want you to remember that, no matter what you may become, no matter if you are rich or poor, famous, as I sincerely trust some of you will be, or just one of the poor, honest workers in the Master’s Vineyard, we at St. Patrick’s will always remember you as friends, we will always remember the banner class of 1916.”

IV

“Vine, listen to this!” said Three-Star Hennessey.

Vine listened.

Three-Star made lip-noises.

The others almost strangled themselves checking guffaws. Davey held his nose and whispered to the guys that it was Vine.

“Ugh!” he muttered.

People near them looked askance.

The guys all told Vinc that he should be ashamed of himself.

“It was him! It was Three-Star, Dave. I didn’t do it. I didn’t. Hones’! Hones’! Hones’! I didn’t. I tell you I didn’t. I’ll take an oath. Cross my die and hope to heart, I mean, I’ll cross my heart and hope to die if I did it. I’m tellin’ you that I didn’t. Hones