His possessions by now were greatly reduced.  His money had gone, little by little, all through his journey with the Major, and he had kept of other things only one extra flannel shirt, a pair of thick socks and a small saucepan he had bought one day.  The half-crown that the Governor had given him was gone, all but fourpence, and he wanted, if possible, to arrive at York, where he was to meet the Major, at least with that sum in his possession.  Twopence would pay for a bed and twopence more for supper.

Half-way up the street he stopped suddenly.  Opposite him stood a small brick church, retired by a few yards of turf, crossed by a path, from the iron railings that abutted on the pavement:  and a notice-board proclaimed that in this, church of the Sacred Heart mass was said on Sundays at eleven, on holidays of obligation at nine, and on weekdays at eight-thirty A.M.  Confessions were heard on Saturday evenings and on Thursday evenings before the first Friday, from eight to nine P.M.  Catechism was at three P.M. on Sundays; and rosary, sermon and benediction at seven P.M.  A fat cat, looking as if it were dead, lay relaxed on the grass beneath this board.

The door was open and Frank considered an instant.  But he thought that could wait for a few minutes as he glanced at the next house.  This was obviously the presbytery.

Frank had never begged from a priest before, and he hesitated a little now.  Then he went across the street into the shadow on the other side, leaned against the wall and looked.  The street was perfectly empty and perfectly quiet, and the hot summer air and sunshine lay on all like a charm.  There was another cat, he noticed, on a doorstep a few yards away, and he wondered how any living creature in this heat could possibly lie like that, face coiled round to the feet, and the tail laid neatly across the nose.  A dreaming cock crooned heart-brokenly somewhere out of sight, and a little hot breeze scooped up a feather of dust in the middle of the road and dropped again.

Even the presbytery looked inviting on a day like this.  He had walked a good twenty-five miles to-day, and the suggestion of a dark, cool room was delicious.  It was a little pinched-looking house, of brick, like the church, squeezed between the church and a large grocery with a flamboyant inscription over its closed shutters.  All the windows were open, hung inside with cheap lace curtains, and protected with dust-screens.  He pictured the cold food probably laid out within, and his imagination struck into being a tall glass jug of something like claret-cup, still half-full.  Frank had not dined to-day.

Then he limped boldly across the street, rapped with the cast-iron knocker, and waited.

Nothing at all happened.

* * * * *