The gambler also
listened, with a softening change in the recklessness of his face.
"The sound of that bell always makes me feel queer," he stammered. "It
sets me to thinking about home, too,--and home folks. I'm blamed if I
can see how it is. I never had any home, and if I've got any kin-folks,
I don't know where they live. But anyhow, that's the way the ringing of
that bell always makes me feel. Say! there's lots of things about your
church that come over a fellow like that. Now there the very name of
that little house back yonder amongst them trees--Our Lady's Chapel.
That's just it--just to the notch what I mean--there's something kind
of homelike in the name itself. And that's the very difference between
your church and the other churches. The Protestant church seems real
lonesome, like a sort of bachelor's hall. The Catholic church makes you
feel at home, because there's always a mother in the house."
"Take care!" exclaimed the priest. "But I am sure you don't mean to be
irreverent, my friend. And about your generosity to the orphans. Here,
let me give the money back.
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