"Peace, children!" said Kathleen; "you spoil the scenery."
The Bishop was at home—a handsome man, tall and erect, with a stern face, yet one that was singularly sweet.
"Well, my child," he asked Kathleen, "what can I do for you?"
"Mr. Quirk wished to know you, my Lord," Kathleen answered, with a smile. "I brought him from Grey Town to introduce him to you."
"It is very kind of Mr. Quirk to come all this way to see me. Perhaps you will lunch with me, now that you have come so far."
"Oh! no, my Lord——," cried Kathleen.
"Oh! yes, my child. You have something to say to me?" he asked Desmond.
"It is private, my Lord—but it can wait," Desmond answered.
"No; it must not wait. Come with me, and talk until luncheon is prepared. I will send Father Geary to entertain your friends."
In his study, a small room, where large books on Theology were ranged on shelves round the walls, where a large silver crucifix stood on the table, with the Bishop's breviary and writing materials beside it, he bade Desmond sit down. Then he began to interrogate him shrewdly, but kindly.