"A sale of scapulars will not finish my church. You're all a miserly lot here, you want everything done for you."
"Weren't you telling me, your reverence, that a pious lady in Dublin—"
"The work is at a stand-still. If I were to go to America to-morrow it would be no use unless I could tell them it was progressing."
"Sure they don't ask any questions in America, they just give their money."
"If they do, that's more than you're doing at home. I want to know, Biddy, what you are going to do for this church. You're always talking about it; you're always here and you have given less than any one else."
"Didn't I offer your reverence a sovereign once since I gave you the five pounds?"
"You don't seem to understand, Biddy, that you can't put up your window until the plastering is finished."
"I think I understand that well enough, but the church will be finished."
"How will it be finished? When will it be finished?"
She did not answer, and nothing was heard in the still church but her irritating little cough.