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“Yes, Father. You’ve been so good, and you’ve given me so much hope.”

“Goodbye, Father, and thank you,” Catherine said, coming forward as the priest placed his hand on the doorknob.

Mrs. Lonigan stood facing Catherine while the front door closed, and Catherine was again afraid of her.

“He’s like a living saint,” Mrs. Lonigan said.

“Yes, Mrs. Lonigan. And it ought to help Bill, too.” Suddenly Mrs. Lonigan hugged Catherine, drew her tight, and held her firmly against her own body.

“Oh, Mrs. Lonigan, I feel so much better, and I know now Bill will pull through. God won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Yes, child. I know, I know how you feel.”

“Maybe we ought to say a little prayer,” Catherine said. The mother and girl sobbed in each other’s arms.

VIII

Catherine fixed a sightless glance on a man alighting from an automobile and disappearing in the apartment hotel across from the Lonigan parlor. She was empty and dull after the administration of the last sacrament to Studs, and her eyes were dry. She turned from the window and walked to the easy chair by the radio where Mr. Lonigan always sat. He would be home soon, and if he seemed kindly and understanding, she might tell him. Or should she? Now she might wait, because Bill was resting more easily, and she had faith. God was now going to spare him.

Unnoticed by Catherine, Mrs. Lonigan entered the parlor and stood over the girl. A deep sigh caused Catherine to look up, surprised, at Studs’ mother. Mrs. Lonigan stroked her hair gently, and Catherine thought that Mrs. Lonigan had just been upset before the priest had come. Now there was sympathy between them, and they would be able to understand each other’s feeling. Catherine smiled gratefully, unsuspicious, and a glow of emotion from the administration of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction seemed to lull through her. She dismissed a sudden and passing thought of warning to be careful.

“Catherine, if my son lives, you are going to be my daughter-in-law, like my daughter, because I have begun to feel toward you the same as if you were my own daughter. Now, my girl, you must not hold back anything from me. You must remember that I am William’s mother, and that to both of us William means a great deal. He would want you to tell everything to me.”

Gazing up hopefully at Mrs. Lonigan, and seeing the woman’s face, kind, sad, understanding, she again dismissed a cautioning thought. She could not keep it silent any longer. It had to be known sometime. She had to talk, or else, she felt, this secret would drive her crazy. She lowered her head, sobbed. Mrs. Lonigan gently patted her hair. She looked up, her face torn with distress. It simply had to come out now.

“I’m having a baby,” she cried, lowering her head onto her arms.

Mrs. Lonigan’s face pinched, tightened, and she coldly watched the girl’s unrestrained sobbing.

“You know we shan’t be able to do anything to help you. Mr. Lonigan’s bank has just failed, and he is, poor man, near bankrupt. And if William dies, with his Order of Christopher insurance made out to you, he will have on his shoulders the extra burden of a funeral. So I am afraid we shan’t be able to do anything to help you,” Mrs. Lonigan said with a calculation made doubly vicious by her even voice.

Catherine knew she had made a mistake. She feared looking up, meeting Mrs. Lonigan’s eyes. She wanted sympathy now. After kneeling and praying with his mother, she didn’t want to, she couldn’t, fight or quarrel. She continued sobbing, trying to pretend that she had not heard these last words of his mother. But this insult. She couldn’t pretend. It was like a shame growing in her. She looked, forcing an angry expression on to her face.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she said curtly, but she could not contain herself, and with another sigh she flung her head against her arm on the side of the chair, permitting an uncontrolled flood of tears.

“You shouldn’t have done such a thing,” Mrs. Lonigan persisted,