"Please, Ann."
"Wasn't ye the Vicar Gineral once? Why should he hurt ye now? I could tell him things if I had me tongue on him—"
But Father Murray was on his feet, and Ann was afraid. She held her tongue.
"Once and for all, Ann, I forbid you to say a word about my superiors. The Bishop is a great and a good man. He knows what he is about, and neither you nor I may judge him. No! not a word."
The housekeeper was crying. "Sure, I'm sorry, yer Reverence. I won't say a word ag'in, even if I do think he treated ye dirthy. But I hope ye won't spake like that to me. Sure I thry to serve ye well and faithfully."
"And so you do, Ann; so respect my wish in this. There, there, don't cry. I don't want to hurt you; but please don't hurt me."
"I'd cut me tongue out if it hurted yer Reverence."
"I think you would. Indeed, I know you would. Don't mind a spoiled dinner. There are plenty of dinners spoiled."
"Sure, them that has theirs spoiled kin afford it." Father Murray could not help being amused again. Ann was always bemoaning his slender revenues. "An' ye a Vicar Gineral."
"Never mind, Ann. I'll get on somehow. Is there anything else?"