"Hold your tongue," said a mason. "If you want the church built why don't you give the priest the money you're saving, and let him pay us?"
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, Pat Murphy. It isn't for myself I am keeping it back. Isn't it all going to be spent?"
The walls were now built, and amid the clatter of the slater's hammers Biddy began to tell the plasterers of the beautiful pictures that would be seen in her window; and she gabbled on, mixing up her memories of the different windows she had seen, until at last her chatter grew wearisome, and they threw bits of mortar, laughing at her for a crazy old woman, or the priest would suddenly come upon them, and they would scatter in all directions, leaving him with Biddy.
"What were they saying to you, Biddy?"
"They were saying, your reverence, that America is a great place."
"You spend a great deal of your time here, Biddy, and I suppose you are beginning to see that it takes a long time to build a church. Now you are not listening to what I am saying. You are thinking about your window; but you must have a house before you can have a window."
"I know that very well, your reverence; but, you see, God has given us the house."
"God's House consists of little more than walls and a roof."
"Indeed it does, your reverence; and amn't I saving up all my money for the window?"
"But, my good Biddy, there is hardly any plastering done yet. The laths have come in, and there isn't sufficient to fill that end of the church, and I have no more money."