Father Healy laughed, for he was a stout, rubicund man.
"I wonder whether you or I look the better nourished," he asked, surveying the doctor's attenuated form.
"Some day you will drop down dead," replied the other.
"Death comes to all sooner or later," said his companion.
"Avoca" had at one time been a fine property; now over everything lay the mark of decay. A broad drive, covered with grass and weed; the remains of beds, where thistles and docks were destroying the flowers and lawns, knee-deep in the over-growth.
"And mortgaged for more than its value," sighed the priest.
"Do you approve of this?" asked Dr. Marsh, with a comprehensive wave of the hand.
"I do not. But better this than order and iniquity. I would like the property neat, tidy and unencumbered, with a fortune in the bank for Kathleen. But," Father Healy added with a sigh, "one can't have everything exactly as he wishes."
"It is the fault of your system," growled the doctor; "you are too strong on Eternity."
"I could not be too strong on that. But I always preach prudence and thrift."