one saw her, or Mrs. Orendorf, as she sat on the freezer gulping down
inaudible opinions regarding Norah's sanity.
"I sha'n't have," retorted Norah, impatiently, "when your father
spends all his money that he mortgaged his farm--"
_"What!"_ cried Freda.
"She not know; ve keep it von her," muttered Mrs. Orendorf. "Fritz
make me promise not to tell."
"Well, he didn't make _me_," said Norah. "_I'll_ tell. He
raised the money, and he was trying to buy the votes, and I saw him. I
haven't any father. I can't remember anything of my father except his
leading me about when I was a little thing by the finger, and how kind
his voice was; but I miss him--I miss him all the time; I know he was
a good man, and loved me; and he'd have done anything for me, just as
your father is doing; and I couldn't have borne it to have him, and I
was sure you couldn't, either. Freda, it's all wrong, this spending
more money than they can afford on us; I've felt it all along. Now
let's stop it. The church has got enough."
"Is it true about papa?" said Freda, in German.
"_Ach Himmel_! Yes, my child. Dost thou not know thy father yet?
For all he seems still and stern, thou art more than all the world to
him." Mrs. Orendorf spoke in the same tongue; her other listeners
could not understand it, but they marvelled over the soft change in
her voice.
"It's true enough, Miss Freda," said Mrs. O'Brien, gently. "And maybe
you're in the right of it, Norah darling, though 'tis a bit hard to
give in; but, yes, I'm sure you're right."
"You _are_ right," said Freda, "and it's all been wrong, all
wrong. But I've got to see my father first. Please come with me."
As Norah had led them in the first place, Freda led them by an equally
potent although entirely different force now; it was Norah's turn to
follow, blindly.
A hush everywhere in their wake betrayed that a consciousness of their
conference and its importance was in the air. Freda was pale, Norah's
cheeks burned, but neither girl looked to the right or the left; and
both the matrons following avoided their friends' curiosity by a
soldierly "eyes front." Freda walked up to her father, who looked up,
not altogether pleased, at her light touch on his arm.
"This is no place for thee, my child," said he; something in her face
made his voice gentler than common. She looked, he thought, dimly, as
she had looked when they got the news about Otto.
"I _have_ to say something," said Freda.
"You beples stand back!" commanded Mrs. Orendorf, with a backward
impulse of her elbows.
"Yes, you stand back, ladies and gentlemen, please," begged Mrs.
O'Brien, smiling; "'twill all be explained to yous." Only Norah stood
her ground; and Pat Barnes kept in the front rank of the bystanders.
"What is it?" growled Berglund, bristling at the circle of faces much
readier for peace than war.
"She wants to give the watch to me," explained Freda, rapidly
repeating almost word for word Norah's offer. As she spoke suspicion
wrinkled the corners of old Fritz's eyes.
"Maypi sie know sie vill git peten," he muttered, loud enough for
Norah to hear. Then, as he saw her color turn, his hard face softened.
"No," he said, clearly, "it don't be _dot_; dot Pat Barnes got
his pocket full of moneys; no, sie is a goot schild, und her fader he
vas a goot mans; sie haf a hard dime mit no fader to look oudt for
her." He turned to Norah, whose swimming eyes met his full. Pat Barnes
tried to cough down his emotion and made a strange squeak; but nobody
smiled; the crowded hall was curiously still as Fritz limped up to
Norah. "No, ve don't can take it off you; can ve, Freda?" said he.
Freda slipped her hand into her father's arm. "No, Norah," she said.
"I withdraw my name. And I'm prouder to have my father than all the
watches in the world!"
"Sure, you're right there, mavourneen," cried Mrs. O'Brien. "Whisht,
all of you! These blessid children have got the way out of all this
mess; they're better Christians than anny of us." Mrs. Orendorf
frowned fiercely, reached for her handkerchief, and wiped her face.
Father Kelly felt it time for his own word, and stepped into the
circle. A sentence or two from Mrs. O'Brien made the quick-witted old
Irishman master of the incident.
"As I understand it," his full, rich, Celtic tones purred, "'tis the
feeling of both these young ladies that there is hard feeling and
strife and wasteful spending of money coming out of what was meant to
be a good-natured contest for the good of the church; but this
disputing, this spending, are neither for the good of the church nor
the glory of God--far from it--God forgive us our weakness. So both
these young ladies withdrew their names. We have cause to be proud of
them both, as they surely have cause to be proud of the loyalty of
their friends." (Irrepressible applause.) "And the kindest thing their
friends can do is to shake hands all around." (A voice--in point of
fact, the voice of the widow Murray: "But what will the sodality do
with the watch?") "The watch is the property of the parish." Here
Father Kelly paused, his persuasive argument rolling back on himself;
_he didn't_ know what to do with the watch. It was too perilous
to run the risk of new discords over it. The priest cast a distress
rocket in a look at the Vicar-General; but the Vicar-General
perfidiously smiled and looked away.
Up spoke Norah, her sweet voice not quite steady, her cheeks
crimson--but they all heard her: "It's a large gold watch. Why can't
we give it to Father Kelly?"
The Vicar-General's lifted hand stilled the shout that rose.
"Why not?" called he. "Father Kelly is not a young lady, but he is
popular."
And Father Kelly, putting both hands over his blushes, ran away from
the frantic roar of applause and laughter. The Vicar-General pursued
him to say:
"You were right, Kelly; she _is_ a good girl--and a wise one!"
Perhaps the only person in the hall who was not either shouting or
screaming, according to sex, was Norah's mother; and the cloud on her
face lightened when she saw Norah coming to her on Pat Barnes's arm
and Pat's face aglow.
Freda saw them too; she slipped her hand into her father's arm.
"_Liebchen_!" said he, stroking it with his rough fingers, "I
will get thee a watch some day, never fear!"
But it was not the thought of a watch that made Freda's heart lighter
than for many a day. "I don't want a watch," said she. "Oh, I'm sorry
for Norah, who can't even remember about her father!"
THE END