Candles' Beams
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LANDVacO.l CATHOLIC CHURCH' " SUPPLIES IB WEST OUNnasST .TOROWTO.CAN. %w J- ,.'^-?.-L..^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from University of Notre Dame Hesburgh Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/candlesbeamsOOfinn FATHER FINN'S FAMOUS STORIES Each volume with a FroniispieGe, net, $1.25, Postage 10c. Candles' Beams. Short Stories Sunshine and Fbeckles Lord Bountiful On the Run Bobby in Movieland Facing Danger His Luckiest Year. A Sequel to "Lucky Bob" Lucky Bob Percy Wynn; or, Making a Boy of Him Tom Playfair; or, Making a Start Harry Dee; or, Working It Out Claude Lightfoot; or, How the Problem Was Solved Ethelred Preston; or, The Adventures of a Newcomer That Football Game ; and What Came of It That Office Boy Cupid of Campion The Fairy of the Snows The Best Foot Forward; and Other Stories Mostly Boys. Short Stories His First and Last Appearance But Thy Love and Thy Grace "While Manuel waved the sword, Carmelita dug furiously with her hands." {Page 124) Candles' Beams BY FRANCIS J. FINN, S. J. Author of "Tom Playfair", "Percy Wynn", "That Football Game", etc. New York, Cincinnati, Chicago BENZIGER BROTHERS 1926 3S// l^lst'^ 0^ iC/ Copyright, 1926, by Benziger Brothers Printed in the United States of America How jar that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. The Merchant of Venice, Act V, Sc. 2 CONTENTS PAGB Thb Candle's Beams 9 Roughneck 22^ A Point of Honor 59 Round Christmas Footlights 75 Quick Action 99 Ada Merton 147 — S Father David Rohan stepped into the waters of the Mississippi, ancient memories returned. It was here as a boy that, by his skill in swimming, he showed the promises afterward fulfilled in his becom- ing the finest athlete in Campion College. It was here, ancient memories reminded him, that after winning an exhausting swimming race of two hundred yards, he swam out, while still pumping for wind, into mid-' stream and rescued an exhausted contestant. This part of the upper Mississippi, some few miles above Dubuque, he had not seen since, seven years before, he had gone to the seminary. Many things had happened in these seven years. He had won out in philosophy and in theology as he had previously won out in athletics ; he had achieved the priesthood he could still almost sense the holy oils recently placed upon his hands—and he had lost his health. Physicians had insisted that after ordination he should return to his native village, and, for a few months, resume, so far as possible, his old life on and in the river. One of them told him he would recover ; two others shrugged their shoulders ; and Father David clearly understood that they had pronounced his death war- rant. But just now as, using the Australian crawl, he made his way out into midstream, his whole being revolted against their decision. He was himself again. He felt that he could, if put to it, win many another medal in the Mississippi waters. 9 10 CANDLES' BEAMS Upon the heels of this buoyant feeling there sud- denly came a sense of lassitude; and he had not made one hundred yards—he to whom a mile or more was once nothing. "Pshaw!" he said, turning upon his back and float- ing. "What else could I expect ? I'm out of condition. The wonder is I could go this far without losing my wind." Then he turned once more, and with a gentler, •easier stroke made for the bank. Even as he turned, an apparition met his gaze. Coming down, with measured pace, towards the shore was a young miss of nine. She appeared to be a gypsy. Her black hair failed to show even a distant acquaintance with comb and brush. It was a long, tangled mass. She was barefooted, barelegged, clothed in a slip of a gown. The girl, as the Father scanned her, continued her grave walk till she reached the water's edge; and, in- stead of halting, walked in. Land and water seemed all one to her. Out into the water she stepped, until she was waist deep. Then throwing herself forward she began to kick and splash with enough vigor, apparently, to sup- ply power for a large factory. This tremendous activ- ity she kept up for fully five minutes, by which time she had swum about two feet. "That little gypsy," soliloquized Father David, "has put enough energy into her performance to carry her half way across the river." "I say, Sissie," he remarked, as with his easy stroke he came within reach of the panting maid, "who taught you how to swim?" "There ain't nobody taught me; and I wish they would. Fm crazy to be a good swimmer." In a few minutes Father David got it iisto the head THE CANDLE'S BEAMS 11 of the impressionable child that it was not necessary, in order to swim, to kick all the water possible into the air. Swimming was not exactly a shower bath. "Say," said the girl after mastering this truth, "my name's Emily—Emily Billic; and I go to school, and I hate books, and what's yours?" "My name is David Rohan." "Oh ! Are you the great swimmer that they all talk about ?" "I was a pretty good swimmer in my day," returned the priest. "Oh ! I want to learn from you. Say, do you think I'll make a great swimmer?" "Judging by the progress you have made in the last ten minutes, I should think you would." !" "Hi ! Hi screamed Emily. "Teach me some more." And teach her more he then and there did. Emily was not a gypsy. In fact, her face, yielding to the softening influences of the water, had become almost fair. She had no fear of the water. Whether her head was above or below seemed, so long as she could hold her breath, all one to her. It was quite conceiv- able that she could drown without discovering that disconcerting fact up to the last minute. The invol- untary swallowing of the water seemed to her to be a part of the sport. The only thing that evidently did worry the child was her dress. Three pins held it together; and these pins were not always faithful to their trust. More than once she ceased her exertions to get one pin or another into a resumption of service. It was in the pauses of one of these difficult tasks that she suddenly lifted changed eyes upon the young priest. ?" "O, say ! Aren't you a Fader "I've been a priest for two weeks, Emily." "Say, I forgot; excuse me." 12 CANDLES' BEAMS Emily, as Father David clearly understood, referred to certain expressions which in previous moments of excitement had slipped from her innocent lips. If the priest could believe his ears, she had once, when he failed to reach her in time, addressed him cold- bloodedly as "You devil." But he had not believed his ears at the moment, "Say, Fader, will you give me a medal?" "Are you a Catholic ?" "I was baptized ; but I don't know nothing." "Doesn't your mother teach you your prayers?" Emily shut her eyes, put her hands together and said: "Name Fader, Son, Holy Ghost—Now I lay me down to sleep—Haily Mary now and at the hour of debt, amen." Then she opened her eyes and looked for approval. "Is that all you know?" "I knew more. Fader; but I forgot." "And does your mother let you go swimming alone ?" "My mudder is dead. She went dead three years ago. And my fader, he is a fisher, and he sleep all day, and he fish all night. And he isn't a Catholic; and he don't care where I go, so I don't wake him up." "Good gracious! And you are your own dress- maker ?" "I've got anudder dress besides this." Father David removed a string from his neck. On it were fastened a scapular medal and what is known as the miraculous medal of Our Lady. This latter he detached and gave to the child. "Wear that all your life, Emily; it is the medal of God's own Mother." Emily's eyes showed the gratitude which her limited command of language failed to express. She hurried from the water, disappeared momentarily behind some — THE CANDLE'S BEAMS 13 bushes, and returned presently with the medal, attached to a very ancient shoe lace, hanging about her neck. "Say, Fader, when are you coming swimming again ?" "I hope to come to-morrow at this same hour four o'clock." "Four o'clock? And will you teach me some more?** "Gladly." "Come on; let's swim again." "Thank you, Emily," returned the priest, whose lips were blue and trembling. "But I'm afraid I've stayed in too long. Now you run away and leave me to dress." "Good-bye, Fader." Here Emily smiled engagingly and held up two fingers. "Four o'clock? To-morrow?" And Emily, like some infant naiad, turned and was lost in the trees. The next morning Emily, at her humble home, re- ceived a package. She opened it in some fear and much wonder. She looked, she shrieked, she jumped into the air, putting, in the act, all three pins out of commission, and then, as she regained her feet, she kissed the medal, which was the only ornament that graced her sturdy person. The package contained a dainty bathing suit.