fore you, right now....

* * * * *

Father Martin was the Cucugnan priest.

He was as wholesome as fresh bread, as good as gold, and he had a
paternal love for his Cucugnanians. For him Cucugnan would have been
the nearest thing to paradise on earth, if only the people had given
him a little more, shall we say, business. But, sadly, his confessional
remained unused except as a larder for spiders. On Easter day, the
hosts remained secure in their holy ciborium. It hurt the good priest
to the very centre of his soul, and every day he prayed that he would
live to see his missing flock back in the fold.

Well, as you will see, the good Lord was listening.

One Sunday after the Gospels, monsieur Martin took his place in the
pulpit.

* * * * *

--Bretheren, he said, believe me, or believe me not, the other night, I
found myself, yes me, a miserable sinner, at the very gates of paradise.

"I knocked. St. Peter himself opened the gates!

"--Well! It's you, my dear monsieur Martin, he began, which fine
wind...? And what can I do for you?

"--Dear St. Peter, keeper of the key and the great book, if I may be so
bold, could you tell me how many Cucugnanians are in heaven?

"--I can refuse you nothing, monsieur Martin. Sit down, we will look it
up together.

"St. Peter then took up his thick book, opened it, and put on his
spec's:

"--Now then, let's see: Cucugnan, you say. Cu...Cu...Cucugnan. Here we
are. Cucugnan.... My dear monsieur Martin, the page is purest white.
Not a soul.... There are no more Cucugnanians than there are fish bones
in a turkey.

"--What! There's no one from Cucugnan here? No one? That's impossible!
Look again, more closely....

"--Nobody, Oh, holy man. Look for yourself, if you think I am joking.

"--My, oh my! Dear, oh dear! I stamped my feet, clenched my hands and
cried,--Mercy me!--Then, St Peter continued:

"--Believe me, monsieur Martin, you mustn't take on so, you could
easily have a stroke. After all, it's not your fault. You see, your
Cucugnanians must, without fear of contradiction, be doing their spell
in purgatory.

"--Oh! for charity's sake, great St. Peter, make it so that I can at
least see them to give them solace.

"--Willingly, my friend.... Here, put on these sandals, quickly, for
the rest of the way is none too smooth.... That's right.... Now, keep
going straight on. Can you see a turning over there, at the far end?
You wi