Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

"But they are poor," insisted Father Francis, "and. ."

"So in the end was your namesake of Assisi poor. Now, my son," continued Father Flynn, "if the people, themselves, have not realized by now how poor they are, it's not up to you to tell them."

But, thought Father Flynn, I talked just like him when I

came here to my first parish. Poor Father Wingate! What he

",~ust have put up quith from me!

"Did I sound so pompous?" asked the young priest, seriously concerned.

"No more than I did when I first took over here. Father Wingate warned me not to try to change the world in an hour. I recall that he said a young man wanting to change the world is a reformer; a middle-aged man who would do the same is a meddler. But when an old man tries it, he's an eccentric and a fool."

"I had not thought to reform. . but to make things a little better… yes."

"Vanity,' said Father Flynn.

"I ask forgiveness for my sin," said the young priest.

"It is right that you wish to work to make things better, but don't do it by making the people dissatisfied with what they have. Take them as they are and for what they are.

Find them good, but needing correction from time to time."

"Needing correction from time to time," repeated Father Francis as though memorizing a lesson. "Thank you, Father."

The housekeeper came in and announced bitterly: "Supper soon. In case you want to wash up." She went back to the kitchen.

"I like a glass of wine before my supper," said Father Flynn to the new priest. "Will you join me?"

"Thank ~you, but no. l don't believe that wine, except as used in Holy Communion. ."

"Ah, Francis, you make me feel like a satyr with my bit of wine once a day."

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'Oh, no! Who am I to. . it so happens I have a little satyr in note," confessed the earntst young man. "I like a good cigar, myself, once in a while," he said airily.

'How many do you smol: e?"

"Three a w eek. One every other day, Sundays excepted, of course."

"What kind " "Corona."

"Corona-Coron3? "

"No. The one-\vord kind. They cost five cents each. But I've been thinking of changing to Between the Acts. You get more."

"We will spare you that sacrifice. Our good Lutheran friend, ~ fine cigar maker, will ke: p you supplied with good Havana cigars. And it will give him great happiness to do so."

"I prefer not to accept gifts. The people of this parish can t afford. ."

"Yes, it is a poor parish," agreed Father Flynn. "All the more reason we should accept with grace the small comforts that come our way."

Father Flynn looked in turn at the humidor of tobacco, his rack of pipes, the decanter of wine, and at the lilac tree in bloom outside the window. All were gifts of parishioners or of nonCatholics who happened to dike him.

"Small comforts," continued Father Flynn, "do much to lessen the strain of making ends meet. Small comforts give a certain serenity to life and a serene man is a tolerant man. A harried man is not a tolerant man."

He sipped his wine.

"I w ould not deny a poor man the privilege the rich man has the privilege of being generous. I would not deny the poor man the grace he feels when he is graciously thanked for a gift graciously given. It makes him feel like a king."

"I have my own way of looking at things, Father," said the y oung priest eal-rlestly. "In time, i n-`ay see things as you do. But it has to come to me in my own time and my own way."

Father Flynn finished his wine. "You are a good boy, Francis, he said. "And after supper would you let me try one of your (:oronas? "

Father Francis had but two in his pocket. Eagerly, he gave [4 ~]

one to Father Flynn. Tile old priest sniffed it and admired its shape.

"Not bad! Not bad at all! It will be a welcome change from pipe smoking. Thank you, my son. I hope you won't run short?"

"Oh, no! No! "

Father Francis glo\ved all over at Father Flynn's thanks.

He felt like a king in a sort of humble way.

EVERYONE went to Father Francis' first High Mass, except Tessie who had gone to an earlier Mass in order to stay home and mind the children. Even Mrs. O'Crawley, who was a member of another parish, came. After the service they stood outside the church.

"He sang the Mass beautifully, just beautifully," said Mrs. O'Crawley, holding up her hand to button her tight kid glove.

"He has the voice for it," said Maggie-Now.

"Better than Father Flynn, anyhow. He's tone-deaf," said Pat.

"Patrick! Is that nice?" said Mrs. O'Crawley possessively.

"Did I say it was nice to be tone-deaf?"

Pat was in one of his argumentive hair-splitting moods.

He was going to make somebody pay for making him go to a long High Mass instead of one of the shorter ones.

"Will you stop at the house and have a cup of coffee with us, Mrs. O'Crawley?" asked Maggie-Now.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bassett, but I must get home. I'm making a veal shoulder with a pocket for dressing, for dinner. And, Patrick, I'll expect you at one for dinner.

After, we can walk to the church together for the christening."

After the baby had been christened, all went to Maggie-Now's house for coffee and cake. Except Annie, who went over to straighten up Tessie's apartment because the little family w as going back to its own place to live.

~ 1] 1 "It was beautiful, just beautiful!" said Mrs. O'Crawley as she skinned off a tight kid glove. "The way Father Francis said that about renouncing Satal and all his angels. .

Just beautiful!"

"I can't thank you enough for the locket," said Tessie.

"It was nothing! Nothing!" said l\Irs. O'Crawley. "Just a little something."

"And for being godluotller,'' said L)enn>.

"It was an honor."

"Yeah. But don't let that — ice)'Oti the ide: Zr that you O\VM me O Crawley," said Pat.

To divert pat, Mag rie-IN'`,w S.liti: "And Albie made a fine godfather."

"Beautiful!" agreed Mrs. O'(:rawiev.

"Thanks!" said Albie hoarsely. "I got to So now.

(lood-hv.'' Ple was off.

Pat left with Mrs. O (Hartley. Denny and Iessie packed and got ready to leave.

"You've been awful nice to me, ~\laggie-Novv," said Tessie.

"You spoiled her, Mat gie-No\v," said Denny. "She won't be fit to live with."

"I wish I could stay here," said Tessie wistfully. "It's lonely in that apartment Denuis away all day. Only home an hour for lunch."

"Come over anytime,' said Maggie-No\v. "And bring Marv I.or-rainy. "

"Lor-raine!" corrected Tessie, a little sharply.

"She's tired," said Dc nny, apologising for his wife.

"I1ere! " said Tessie, immediately sorry. "You can hold the baby a minute, Maggie-Now."

After they had left, \laggie-Now changed the sheets on her bed and put her little possessions back on the dressing table. (She had put them away while Denny and Tessie used her room.) She bathed her two foster babies, gave them their supper and put them to bed. She had a sandwich and a cup of coffee for her supper. To use cooking for only one, she thought. She ate standing up and from the top of the A ashtub. She couldn't bear to sit alone at the big table where so many had sat the last week or so.

She went through the rooms looking for something to do. Everything was in apple-pie order. It was too early to start the [4 4]