n't appreciate her music for the Confirmation."

"But I did."

"But ye didn't tell her so, the hussy."

"Hush, Ann. Don't call names. I had no time to tell Miss Wilson
anything. I'll see her to-day."

"Yes, ye will, and that'll make her worse. She's got to be soft-soaped
all the time, the painted thing!"

"Please, Ann, don't talk like that. I don't like it, and it makes hard
feelings."

"'Tis little feelings yer Reverence should have left after the way the
Bishop--"

"Ann!"

"I _will_ say it. Didn't he slide out of bein' here three months ago?
An' I wid a dinner fit fer the auld Bishop, and too good fer this--"

"Please, Ann."

"Wasn't ye the Vicar Gineral once? Why should he hurt ye now? I could
tell him things if I had me tongue on him--"

But Father Murray was on his feet, and Ann was afraid. She held her
tongue.

"Once and for all, Ann, I forbid you to say a word about my superiors.
The Bishop is a great and a good man. He knows what he is about, and
neither you nor I may judge him. No! not a word."

The housekeeper was crying. "Sure, I'm sorry, yer Reverence. I won't
say a word ag'in, even if I do think he treated ye dirthy. But I hope
ye won't spake like that to me. Sure I thry to serve ye well and
faithfully."

"And so you do, Ann; so respect my wish in this. There, there, don't
cry. I don't want to hurt you; but please don't hurt me."

"I'd cut me tongue out if it hurted yer Reverence."

"I think you would. Indeed, I know you would. Don't mind a spoiled
dinner. There are plenty of dinners spoiled."

"Sure, them that has theirs spoiled kin afford it." Father Murray
could not help being amused again. Ann was always bemoaning his
slender revenues. "An' ye a Vicar Gineral."

"Never mind, Ann. I'll get on somehow. Is there anything else?"

"McCarthy's sick ag'in."

"Well, I'll take the Holy Oils and go down there this morning."

Ann was now herself again, or she wouldn't have come back so hard on
the chronically dying McCarthy.

"Sure, ye n'adn't do that. Ye've wasted a whole gallon of Holy Oil
anointin' that omadhan four times already."

The priest passed off the unthought irreverence without notice.

"I'll go and see him now, Ann. The man may be very sick. Get me my
hat. I left it in my bedroom when I came in last night from O'Leary's."

Ann gave him his hat at the door, with another bit of information.

"Miss Atheson telephoned for me to ask ye to drop