ound on'y the square bit o' paper, a milliner's bill, that she tuk for
the permit be mistake. 'Well, this'll have to do,' says she. Says I,
'Wud ye insult the Pope be shakin' a milliner's bill in his face as ye
go in the dure?' She never answered me, but walked in an' presented her
bill to a Mounsinnyory----"

"What's that?" Arthur asked. "I was never in Rome."

"Somethin' like the man that takes the tickets at the theayter, ou'y
he's a priest, an' looks like a bishop, but he cuts more capers than ten
bishops in wan. He never opened the paper--faith, if he had, there'd be
the fine surprise--so we wint in. I knew the Pope the minnit I set eyes
on him, the heavenly man. Oh, but I'd like to be as sure o' savin' me
soul as that darlin' saint. His eyes looked as if they saw heaven every
night an' mornin'. We dhropped on our knees, while the talkin' was goin'
on, an' if I wasn't so frikened at bein' near heaven itself, I'd a died
listenin' to her ladyship tellin' the Pope in French--in French, d'ye
mind?--how much she thought of him an' how much she was goin' to spind
on him while she was in Rome. 'God forgive ye, Anne Dillon,' says I to
meself, 'but ye might betther spind yer money an' never let an.' She med
quite free wid him, an' he talked back like a father, an' blessed us
twinty times. I dinno how I wint in or how I kem out. I was like a top,
spinnin' an' spinnin'. Things went round all the way home, so that I
didn't dar say a word for fear herself might think I had been drinkin'.
So that's how we saw the Pope. Ye can see now the terrible determination
of Anne Dillon, though she was the weeniest wan o' the family."

In the early morning the steamer entered the lower bay, picking up Doyle
Grahame from a tug which had wandered about for hours, not in search of
news, but on the scent for beautiful Mona. He routed out the Dillon
party in short order.

"What's up?" Arthur asked sleepily. "Are you here as a reporter----"

"As a lover," Grahame corrected, with heaving chest and flashing eyes.
"The crowd that will gather to receive you on the dock may have many
dignitaries, but I am the only lover. That's why I am here. If I stayed
with the crowd, Everard, who hates me almost, would have taken pains to
shut me out from even a plain how-de-do with my goddess."

"I see. It's rather early for a goddess, but no doubt she will oblige.
You mentioned a crowd on the dock to receive us. What crowd?"

"Your mother," said Doyle, "is