The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [23]
“Sure, that’s so,” Lonigan orated profoundly as if he were shedding the fruit of long and consistent thought.
“And isn’t the Catholic Church the grand thing?” Mrs. Reilley said lyrically.
“And just think how awful the world would be without the Church,” said Mrs. Lonigan.
“There’s nothin’ like the Church to keep one straight,” said Lonigan.
“It keeps you toeing the mark. That’s one thing to say for it,” Mrs. Reilley said.
Reilley agreed with a feeble nod of his sleepy head.
“That is the reason we gave our children a Catholic education,” Mrs. Lonigan said.
“And isn’t it the truth that a mother never need worry when she sends her byes and girls to the good sisters, the holy virgins!” Mrs. Reilley said.
There was a nodding of heads.
“Isn’t the Church the grand thing,” insisted Mrs. Reilley.
The conversation drifted and dribbled on amidst increasing barrages of yawns.
X
It was the first evening of the official maturity of the young people in the parlor, and after getting seated they wondered what to do; the boys sat stiffly on one side of the room, and gazed furtively at their long trousers; the girls faced them, acting prim and reserved. Growing up had always meant more freedom, and here they were after their graduation, afraid to do anything lest it seem kiddish; afraid, particularly, to play the kids’ kissing games they used to play at parties.
“Well, what’ll we do?” grumbled Weary, who sat between Studs and sallow-faced TB on the unscratched piano stool.
“Yeah, let’s do something,” Studs suggested.
Soft-skinned and fattish Bill Donoghue was seated under the floor lamp near them. He said:
“Now that’s a bright idea!”
Studs made a face at Bill, as if to say: Go soak yer head! “Bill’s a loogin who always tries to wisecrack,” Studs said.
“Studs is a little fruity!” Bill said, and they laughed.
“Such awful slang you boys use,” Helen Borax said.
Studs scowled at Helen and said:
“Bill, I’m going to slap your pretty wrist!”
Helen colored slightly, and elevated her nose.
Bill got limp like a sissy, and tapped his own wrist daintily, and everybody laughed at his comics, because Bill was really very funny.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad I’m through school,” said Tubby Connell, a kinky-haired, darkish boy who had plunked, uncomfortably, in the corner easy chair that Mrs. Lonigan always said must be beautiful, because it had cost over a hundred dollars.
“Ope! Look what the wind blew in!” Bill said, looking at Tubby.
“Another lost country heard from,” muttered Studs.
Tubby blushed bashfully.
“Anyway, I’m darn glad to get out of that joint,” Weary said.
“Frank, it isn’t a joint .. And you jus’ wait. You’ll be sorry and wish you were back at St. Patrick’s just like Father Gilhooley said we’d all remember our days there,” his sister said.
“Weary didn’t hear him say that. When Gilly was talking of that, I heard him snoring,” Bill said, and they laughed.
Peggy Nugent said you shouldn’t speak of a priest like that, or something awful might happen to you. You should always say Father Gilhooley. She smiled, and everybody could see she thought it was thrilling to call him Gilly.
“Well, he has gills like a fish,” Bill said.
“How disrespectful,” Lucy Scanlan said, twinkling her blue eyes.
Weary made faces at his sister. Tubby reiterated that he was glad to get out of jail because he felt that he had to say something. He was blushing.
They laughed, and TB said he, too, was darn glad to get out of the pen, and they laughed again.
“I'll be glad to get to high school,” said well-behaved Dan Donoghue, and just as he did, Bill aimed a peanut at Tubby. Connell told him to cut it out, and Bill asked what in a very innocent voice.
He and Tubby carried on a side-dialogue.
“You will, Dan? Why?” asked Fran Lonigan.
“Oh, I just will,” said Dan.
“Well, I don’t know if I’m glad or not,” said Fran.
“What school do you think you’ll go to, Studs?” asked