"Sure, 'twas about her young b'y Jack, the good-fer-nothin'. He's drinkin' ag'in."
"And she wants me to—"
"Give him the pledge."
"All right; but why didn't you bring him in?"
"Well, wan raison is that he isn't sober yet and she couldn't bring him wid her. The other is that yer Reverence has sp'iled more good pledges on that lad than would kape the Suprame Coort in business for tin years."
Father Murray smiled and Ann knew she had made considerable progress, but not quite enough yet.
"I'll go and see him to-morrow morning. He'll be sober then," said the priest, looking down longingly at his work.
But Ann had another case. "The choir's busted."
Father Murray put down his book. Here was disaster indeed. "Again?"
"Yes, ag'in. The organist, Molly Wilson, is insulted."