Bread and Roses, Too Read Online Free PDF Page A

running. He never stopped until he was in the shade of the giant mill, where he dressed himself once more, tears of anger stinging his cheeks.
    The boy was too ashamed to go back to Angelo's, so he headed for a place he knew was never locked up—the Irish church, Saint Mary's, on Haverhill Street.
    He made his way through the dark sanctuary—the only light, the pale one above the altar—into the room to the left of the altar where the priests kept their robes. He knew from past experience that there was a toilet there and a basin. He fumbled his way in the dark until he found the basin. Standing before it, he stripped himself of Giuliano's clothes, now soggy with his blood. He turned on the water and, with the towel that was hanging next to the basin, washed the bloody stripes on his legs. They stung like fury. He swiped the towel across his back.
    Should he try to rinse the blood off Giuliano's clothes? And wear what? A priest's robe? He laughed out loud. He, Jake Beale, got up like a papist priest! In his father's eyes, that would be the only thing worse than a wop's shirt and trousers. So there in the dark, in the priests' private basin, he washed the blood from Giuliano's shirt and pants as best he could and hung them over the heavy chairs in the priests' room to dry. Then he opened the closet and found himself a nice wool robe with a sash and wrapped himself in it. It was warmer than Angelo's shirt had been.
    His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark room, so he investigated the cabinets, where he found a carafe of wine and funny little pieces of dry crackers. He stuffed handfuls of the round crackers into his mouth and washed them down with the wine. It was sweet and tasted a lot better than the wine Angelo had given him in the tavern. He sat down on the soft carpet and drank more of it until the pain in his back and legs dimmed and his head began to nod.

    "Holy Mother of God!"
    The bulb hanging from the ceiling was lit, and Jake saw, standing above him, a burly Irishman, his raised eyebrows like woolly caterpillars, his blue eyes bulging.
    Jake jumped to his feet. He tried to run but tripped over the long robe and landed with a thud on the carpet. The man stepped on the hem of the robe, pinning him to the floor.
    Jake thought fast. priests have to forgive you if you sin. That's the rule. "Forgive me, Father," he whined.
    The big man began to laugh. "You take me for a priest, do you?" He lifted his foot off the bottom of the robe. "Then you don't belong around here, or you'd know I'm just the sexton. But you better get yourself into your own clothes and clear out before the father shows up for early Mass." He prodded Jake with his toe. "I mean it." He looked at the scattered wafers on the floor and the half-empty carafe of wine. "Hurry. Dress yourself. I got me work cut out for me here."
    Jake stood up and let the robe drop to the floor. The man ignored his nakedness and concentrated on picking up the mess the boy had made. Giuliano's clothes were still damp, but it couldn't be helped. Jake put them on though they were clammy and just the touch of them pained his back and legs. If the sexton had seen the marks on the boy's body, he didn't mention them, but he did say, "If you need something to eat, boy, go to the back door of the rectory. My wife is the cook here. She'll give you a bite."
    Tempted as Jake was by the mention of food, he thought it better not to hang around. No need to press his luck. He mumbled his thanks to the sexton and made his way out into the sanctuary and down the aisle. Just before he got to the huge wooden doors, he remembered the box where people dropped coins for the needy. Well, who was needier than he? The lock was flimsy and easily broken. The box was filled mostly with pennies, but he scooped up all the money and loaded it into his pockets. At least he'd eat for a few days.

Joe Ettor Comes to Town
    It was Saturday morning, but the streets were quiet. By now, Jake was sure, if people