Next Day.
I did what I said about Tom Dacey. It has been a dreadful day. I didn't get up when mum called me at half-past six, At breakfast she said,
"I called you, Mickie, I thought you wanted to go to Mass."
I said nothing.
"What's up, Egbert?" Dad said,
"You are not eating in your usual hearty style?"
I said nothing.
"Sick,"
"No, Mum."
"Homework not done and you are .afraid to face Sister Paul?"
"It's done," I said sadly, I went off to school, feeling very miserable and ready to fight with -anyone. I knew I should try to fight against myself, and this bad feeling. But I wouldn't. The devil was near me. I listened to him.
At dinner time Tom Dacey called me Mickie the Mug, the Grumbler, because I dropped the ball, and said it was his fault for not throwing properly.
I went at him and punched into him. I made his nose bleed. Maurice Moore came over and tried to drag me away, so I punched him and made his nose bleed, too; then Jim Brennan came over and tried to stop me, so I went for him and made his nose bleed, three ! Didn't I go at them. But I gave Dacey the most. I must have looked awful, because I know the three of them were skared stiff of me, and another time three of them would not have been. The girls screamed and ran in to tell .Sister Pawl. I didn't care. I kept on punching Tom Dacey and Maurie Moore and Jim Brennan as if I were that great big Italyan jiant, Carnera.
There's hardly ever a real fight in our playground. There's always a Sister walking up and down, and no boy wants to fight when a Sister is about, because it seems too bad to do it. But to-day Sister Allerwishes, who had been on the playground, was gone inside. A lady came on some bizniz, and Sister took her inside.
“He's gone mad," Rosie Moran called out, "Mickie Daly’s gone mad. He'll kill them! We’ll have to get a perleesman."
She was crying like anything. Mary Dacey was crying, too, like anything and hanging on to my coat, calling out, "You leave my brother alone. Mickie Daly, I'll tell my father."
But I just went on banging into them, and they only tried to defend themselves, and couldn't seem to get a hit back on me, I had them mesmerized, I think. My temper was awful. I think I must have been mad all right. The devil was pleased, I know. I think he was in me.
Sister Allerwlshes came on the verandah. About sixty kids had run in to tell her. She clapped her hands. But I didn't stop. She called out, "Michael Daly!" But I didn't stop, I was wound up. I couldn't stop. Sister had to come right down the playground into the thick of the fight. As soon as Sister touched my arm, I stopped . My hands fell to my sides, and just then, Jim Brennan, the mean little cow, gave me a crack on the jaw.
The three of them were crying. "He's gone mad, Sister," they said.
Tom Dacey's face was all over blood, so was Brennan's and Moore's. But Dacey's was the bloodiest. Our clothes were spattered with blood, my hands were. Poor Sister Allerwishes. I was sorry she had come out. It would not have been so bad if it had been Sister Pawl. A war wouldn't frighten her or make her sick. But poor Sister Allerwishes looked sick.
"I don't care," I shouted in a loud, horrible voice that did not sound like my own voice at all . It wasn't, either. It belonged to some evil spirit in me. I reely wanted to say, "I'm so sorry, Sister. I am ashamed of myself," But these words would not come for me. All the little kids stood round horrorfied . I knew I had skandilized them, and that a mile-stone should have been hung round my neck and I should have been thrown into the sea.
Sister Pawl came then. I was sent to wash the blood from my hands and told to go and sit in The Office. Tom Dacey's wounds were dressed. His lip was up like as if a hive of bees had stung him, and his eyes was all bungy, and the blood simply poured out of his nose. There must have been gallins and gallins of blood in Tom Dacey's head. There's not so much to-night.
It was mizerable in Sister Pawl's Office. It has a clean, cold smell There's a table in it, and two stiff chairs. There's a crucifix on the wall, and a picture of the Pope over the mantel, a statue of Our Lady on a little stand, with a few white flowers, and a lamp is in the corner.
It always seems as if Sister Pawl went out just a half minute ago; or as if she was in it, but you couldn't see her. You kind of feel her presince.
The Pope gave me a grave look, so I didn't look a second time at him. I looked at the window curtains so’s I could not see the crucifix or the statue.
I was left there all the afternoon. I could easily have nicked off. The door was open. Every moment I expected Sister Pawl to come in. It was dreadful suspence.
Girls and boys and Sisters passed along the corridor to the different rooms. They looked in at me as if I were a strange boy they had never seen before, or a rare animal just landed for the Zoo. Rosie Moran gave me a sad kind of a smile as if she wasn't sure whether she should smile at me or not. It did me a bit of good. It was like, I think, if you were in Hell and an angel passed by the gate and smiled at you. Well, I better not say Hell. Purgatory. You never get out of Hell. And I knew I'd get out of the Office sometime.
Father Dale came over to see the First Communion class, and he came along the corridor. I wished an earthquake would come, and Sister Pawl's office fall all over me before he would see me. I heard his voice and his step in the corridor. He saw me.
"Mickie! In punishment?"
I did not speak. I could not.
Just then, Tom Dacey, who had been sitting in the Sick Chair amongst the cushions on the verandah, looking with one eye only, the other was bunged. at picture books all the afternoon, came by.
"Tom!" Father Dale said. "What hit you? Was it a steam-roller?" Then he looked at me. "Is this your work, Michael Daly?"
"Yes, Father."
"Well, Mickie, you certainly believe in doing a job thurrily. What was it all about?"
"He called me Mickie the Mug; and the other -day he said I was the . biggest grumbler and growler in the school"
"But, Father, I've often called him Mickie the Mug before. and he didn't go mad. We all say it to each other -Mug, and Muggins. We say it to one another hundreds of times in the day. And he calls me Daisy whenever he likes."
"So he went mad to-day," said Father Dale, and there was a funny little twist in his lips. He seemed like Rosie Moran, as if he would like to smile on me, but thought he had better not.
"Yes, Father," went on Dacey. "He fought three of us at once."
"Surrounded you, like," said Father Dale, and his lips were all twisty.
"Yes, Father. And the girls were frightened and begged him to stop, and they cried and he wouldn't. He was reel mad. Sister Allerwishes clapped and he wouldn't stop, she called out to him and he wouldn't stop ... "
All the twists went out of Father Dale's lips.
"Michael Daly, I'm ashamed of you. You didn't stop when Sister Allerwishes told you to."
"N-no, Father. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I was all wound up and my fists had to go. But when Sister touched my arm I stopped at once."
I didn't tell him that Jim Brennan got one in on me then. I was going to. But kept it back. I'm glad I didn't tell .
"Well, Tom, I am sorry your beauty is for the time being compleetly distroyed. I am afraid your mother won't know you. Now, go back to your class and wait until I come. I'll have a talk with this young-mad-man,"
When Tom was gone, Father Dale said, "Come, now, Michael Daly, what is it all about. There's something in all this. You've been called Mickie the Mug often, it seems. It is a term of endeerment amongst you boys. Now, why did it turn you into a raging madman to-day?"
"He said I was the biggest grumbler and growler in the school, and I punched him because-because it's true. I am. Everyone says I am; and I'll be no good in the world when I grow up. I thought I was getting along all right. I thought I was better than any of the others, that it would be easy for me to be. You won't tell anyone, Father?"
"Not a soul," Father Dale said, and he closed the door.
"I want to be- to be-." I had to swallow hard. It seemed such cheek for me to tell him.
"A priest, is it?"
"Yes, Father. A priest-a foren mission priest, and go to China. I wrote to Father Mullany and asked him to keep a place for me. He said I could come when I was old enough. And he told me to work hard and to be cheerful and not to grumble at anything hard that happens to me. When I read the letter I was very happy. I didn't think I was a grumbler. I just thought the other boys and Sister Pawl were always down on me; and Mother was when she kept getting mutton all the time and making me eat vegetables and get up early and go to bed early; and Father calling me names and making me dig in the garden. I thought I was all right, but that people were unkind to me. Then, one day, Sister Pawl said I was always grumbling. It gave me a great shock. Then I began to remember the boys often said I grumbled and growled at the games, and the girls said so, too. I read Father Mullany's letter over and over, and it seemed as if he knew, too. He warned me not to grumble. I became very downhearted. And I fell into despair." Father Dale coughed and walked to the window. "I gave up trying to be good. I gave up my visit and my deckide, and I made up my mind to punch Tom Dacey the first chance I got, because he's always crowing about what he can do, and what I can't. I wouldn't get up and go to Mass this morning, altho' my mother called me. I just gave into the devil and I think when I was fighting in the playground I must have been possessed by the devil. I felt that my face looked awful. And beside, I couldn't beat three of them. The devil must have helped. And he wouldn't let me stop when Sister Allerwishes called, and I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but I couldn't say the words."
Father Dale looked up at the picture of the Pope, and then he put his hand on my head. As soon as he did I burst out crying-just as bad as Rosie Moran and Mary Dacey were in the playground.
"So you fell into despair and the devil took possession of you, Michael."
"Yes, Father," I sobbed.
He rubbed my head all over and gave me a pat on the shoulder.
"Has the devil gone out of you now, do you think?"
"Yes, Father."
"Are you in despair now?"
"N--no, Father."
"Your patron, the great Michael, fought the devil, you know. You must fight the devil too. Never mind punching poor Dacey and Jim and Maurie. Get into the devil. He's the enemy. You see, he did not want you to make visits and say deckides and go to morning Mass. And he played on you and your temper and brought you into this mess. He does not like little boys to even think they'd like to be priests, when they are only ten. He wanted you to get down-hearted and give it up at once. But don't you mind him, Mickie. Keep on trying to be good. If you find you have been inclined to be a grumbler, well, that's a fault to correct. It's something to fight. It won't be as easy as cleaning up poor Tom Dacey. Are you going to take up heart again and go on with your hard fight?"
"Yes, Father."
"Come on, then. We'll see if we can get Sister Pawl to forgive you."
He took out a big silk handkerchief and wiped all the tears off my face, and we went along hand-in-hand to my class room. I apologised to Sister Pawl. She looked very sivear, and told the children I was sorry I had skandilized them. I shook hands with Tom and Jim and Maurie. Then we went to Sister Allerwishes' room. I nearly cried again when Sister said she knew I had been trying very hard to be good, and that the devil envied my happy state and kept at me until I fell into a temper.
"Just what I have been telling him," Father Dale said.
I told Sister I was very, very sorry I did not stop when she called to me. She said she forgave me, and I nearly cried again.
Then Father Dale drove Tom Dacey and me and Jim and Maurie home. He said we were not in a fit state for work. But first he took us into the church for a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. I felt very much ashamed of myself for despairing, and I promised Our Lord I'd never give in to it again - if He would help me. I'd fight my faults and try and try until the day I died.
So this dreadful day is over, and I feel happy again, but very much ashamed.
I'll take care not to think much of myself after this.
My appertight is back. Father said: "Fighting evidently is a tonic with you. You have an appertight like Carnera's to-night, Algernon. I suppose Tom Dacey's mother will come at me for damages. Father Dale told me that you made a terrible ruin of her son's face."
"Leave him alone. Father," Mum said, "the Church has dealt with the case. Let it drop."
So he did. I was glad. I never want anyone to mention that fight to me again, for I know quite well the devil was helping me.
My diery is getting full. I'll have to buy a new book soon.
I forgot to write down that I asked Father Dale how would Father Mullany know to warn me against grumbling. I didn't know, then. I was a grumbler, but he must have.
"Oh," Father Dale said, "these priests belonging to missions know lots of things. And, besides, Mickie, there's something called reading between the lines. I'm not good at it myself, but perhaps the mission priests are. You'll be able to do it yourself when you are one of them." He was laughing when he said it.
Father Dale has a beautiful laugh. He's going to keep my secret. There's only three of us in it.
(To be continued,)