There was a great spread for breakfast—everything that they knew she liked best and poor Paddy had to taste something of each dish to please them, until she was obliged to impress them politely that she had reached the utmost limit of her capacity. After breakfast she and Eileen went off on an exploring expedition through the village. At the church gate they met the sexton, old Robert Morony, a sort of monument of longevity to the village.
“I’ve been to see the restorations, Robert,” cried Paddy joyously. “Doesn’t the church look lovely!”
“It do, indaid, Miss Paddy,” answered the old man, shaking hands with unmistakable pleasure. “Faith! did ye iver see sich a luvely place o’ warship afore? An’ everythin’ so compact lik’! What I mean, nothin’ stunted.”
“I should think not, Robert. Trust Aunt Jane and Aunt Mary to do a thing thoroughly if they undertake it. When I heard the church was to be restored by them, I said, ‘Begorra! that’ll be an edifice to be proud of now!’”
Robert chuckled with delight.
“But shure, an’ you don’t see the half,” he explained eagerly. “It’s all them nice things you don’t see as so pleases me. Now would you belaive—there’s actually twelve new dusters! positively bran’ new, all folded as neat an’ trim-lik’ an’ put away where no one can see ’em. Now that’s what I call restoring a church properly—indaid, I just luve the sight of ’em.”
“I quite agree with you, Robert,” and Paddy’s eyes twinkled rarely. “It’s the things I can’t see, that I love to look at.”
“Egzactly,” with growing excitement. “I ought to ’a’ showed you roun’, Miss Paddy, ’cos I knows where everythin’ bides. Why, there’s six new lamp glasses, all a-lying there case o’ accidents, wrapped up in beautiful tissue paper. I’d a-lik’ you to see they lamp glasses. Oh! an’ the new iron safe,” getting almost beside himself. “Did ye see ’im a-sittin there in the vestry, on all they hymn books, all neatly stacked underneath, looking as important like as if ’e knew ’e was livin’ in one o’ the foinest churches in ould Oireland?”
“When an iron safe sits on hymn books, what do you suppose hatches out?” murmured Paddy wickedly to Eileen.
“Did ye see the new bell rope?” ran on Robert, waving his stick about in a somewhat dangerous fashion to eyes and noses. “A brave wee bit o’ rope that—strong ’nough to hang a man, as I says to Andrew Murphy. The blue ceiling with the yellow stars is all very well, and the new altar, and the winder with the angels playin’ on real Oirish harps—but ’tis all a bit popish to my thinkin’—and I lik’ that brave wee rope, and they lamp glasses in tissue paper, and they twelve bran’ new dusters the best. Faith! ’tis meeself should have shown ye roun’. I’m shure ye didn’t see the half. Did ye notice the new tumbler o’ wather for ’is rivirence to drink from when ’is sermons is too long-winded for ’im? Faith! we did make a job of it. Ivery ’ole and corner turned out and clained. Shure, it’s meeself did the back seat by the font, and to my sartin knowledge it ’adn’t been cleaned out this ten or twelve year. Niver more’n about once since I’ve had the cue o’ the edifice this forty year.”