“May the Almighty God give ye the blessings of his Holy Name, and may all the saints be wid ye in the hour of need. Faith, I niver met a finer Christian or a grander gintleman in all me life.”
She caught her children round her and told them the great things that were in store for them. With a warm feeling that the day had not passed in vain, the Vicar hurried away.
Directly he was out of sight, the woman made her way to the presbytery of the first Roman Catholic church she could find.
“I want to see the preyst,” said she, when they opened the door to her knocking.
They looked at her ragged clothes. It was with difficulty that she gained an audience.
“Go round into the chapel,” they said, “and Father —— will be with you in a minute.”
She plunged quickly into her story directly he came.
“Indeed, he was a nice gintleman,” she concluded, “and ’twas fifteen shillings he offered me if I’d bring the three of them to the church to-morrow morning.”
She gazed down at them and they gazed up at her. In some vague way they realised that they were under discussion. Their little mouths were open in wonder.