But let's get down to business; only, you'll have
to help me out, it's so long since I went to confession I've almost
forgotten how.'
"'Come into the house or the confessional in the church,' I suggested.
"'The house or the confessional in the church? No, thank you, Father. My
little friends up yonder, those pretty, sparkling stars, my only
companions on many a lonely night, have been the witnesses of my
degradation. Let them now behold my restoration to the favor of the God
whom I've offended.'
"Strange words, those, from a tramp, and I marveled at them. Without
more ado we 'got down to business,' and it was nearly two hours later
when we parted at the gate. In answer to a question of mine, Jim replied
whimsically:
"'Where do I live while I'm working on this job? Well, you see, Father,
I am rather particular with regard to my lodgings, and as there is
nothing around here that quite suits me, I just crawl under the engine
and sleep there.'
"'But when it rains, Jim?'
"'Well, it just rains, that's all.'
"The next morning Jim attended my Mass and received Holy Communion, and
every morning after that when I entered the church to offer up the Holy
Sacrifice the first person I would see would be my one-armed tramp
kneeling in a far corner, his rosary slipping through his fingers. The
rosary had belonged to his mother, and during all his years of tramping
he had guarded it as his most precious treasure.
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