Discount Louis Vuitton But Dan

But Dan, whatever might be his month's record of wrong-doing, had taken to Father Mack from the first. Perhaps it was something in the Irish voice that recalled Aunt Winnie; perhaps some deeper sympathy between souls akin. Though they seldom met, for the old priest had his room in a building remote from the students' quarters, Father Mack and Dan were fast friends. His presence here was most unlooked for; and Dan was about to retire without further intrusion, when the old priest closed his book and turned to him with a kindly nod.
"You needn't run off. I'm done, my boy. These long, hot days are a bit hard on me; but I like to stay out here in the evening to say my Office and watch the sunset. Did you ever watch the sunset, Danny?"
"Yes, Father," answered Dan. "It's great."
"What do you see in it, Danny?" was the low question.
"Oh, all sorts of things, Father,--domes and spires and banners of gold and red and purple, and pillars of cloud and fire--"
"And gates," broke in Father Mack. "Don't you see the gates, Danny,--gates that seem to open in the shining way that leads to God's Throne? Ah, it's a wonderful sight, the sunset, when your day is near done and you are tired and old,--too old to be picturing and dreaming. I'll soon see--beyond the cloud and the dream, Danny,--I'll soon see."
The old man paused for a moment, his dim eye kindling, his withered face rapt. Then suddenly, as if recalled from some cloudy height to earth, his look and voice changed into fatherly interest.
"Were you looking for me,--were you wanting to talk to me, my son?"
"No--yes--no," faltered Dan, who had not thought of such a thing. "Well, yes, I believe I do. I'm all muddled up, and maybe you can set me right, Father Mack. For--for," Dan blurted out without further hesitation, "I can't see things clear myself. Aunt Winnie is grieving and pining and homesick at the Little Sisters. She is trying to hide it, but she is grieving, I know. She broke down and cried to-day when I went to see her,--cried real sobs and tears. And--and" Dan went on with breathless haste, "Peter Patterson, that keeps the meatshop at our old corner, has offered me five dollars a week to come and work for him. To give up Saint Andrew's--and--and--all it means, Father Mack, and work for him."
Chapter 6 Father Mack
"Give up Saint Andrew's!" repeated Father Mack in a low, startled voice. "You, Dan! Give up! Oh, no, my boy,--no!"
"Aunt Winnie will die if I don't," blurted out Dan, despairingly. "Pete Patterson says so. And I can take her home and give her back her little rooms over Mulligans', and the blue teapot and Tabby, and everything she loves. And Pete says I can work up to be his partner."
"His partner,--his partner! In what?" asked Father Mack, anxiously.
"Meat business," answered Dan. "He's made money, and he's going in for it big,--corning, smoking, sausage, everything. I--I could take care of Aunt Winnie fine."
"Meat business, sausage? I don't think I understand," said Father Mack, in bewilderment. "Sit down here, Dan, and tell me all this over again."