"Please God," replied the Father, settling himself in the morris chair. (He knew when young eyes implored.)
"I'll say good-day t' ye all," went on the policeman. He gave Johnnie a wink and Cis a smile as he went out.
Father Pat now took off his hat. In such cases it was well to "set by" till the storm blew over. "I'm thinkin' I met ye on the docks one day," he observed cordially enough to Big Tom. "'Twas the time there was trouble over the loadin' of the Mary Jane."
Barber was chewing. "Y' had that honor," he returned, a trifle sarcastic.
"Ha-ha!" laughed the Father. But there was a flash of something not too friendly in his look. "Honor, was it? I'm glad ye told me! For meself, shure, I can't always be certain whether 'tis that—or maybe just the opp'site!"
"I can be sure," went on the longshoreman. He sucked his teeth belligerently. "I know when I'm honored, and also when I'm not."
"Is it like that?" retorted Father Pat smoothly. "Then I'll say ye're smarter than I judged ye was from seein' ye put a lad on to the street t' sell flowers of a Sunday mornin'."
To Cis this passage between the men was all pure agony. She dropped down beside Grandpa's chair, and stayed there, half hidden. But it was not misery for Johnnie. He had rightly guessed what the "rakin'" would be, and for whom. And now it was going forward, and he welcomed it.
It was then that it came over him how different was this newest friend from his other two! One-Eye always left Johnnie puzzled as to his real opinion of the longshoreman, this through saying just the opposite of what he meant. Mr. Perkins, on the other hand, did not express himself at all; in fact, almost ignored Barber's existence. But Father Pat! Not even old Grandpa could be in doubt as to how the priest felt toward the longshoreman.
"Oh, don't you worry about this kid," advised Big Tom. "I git mighty little out o' him."