"Well, Father," said Owen, riding up to the door just at this moment, "I had better be on the way, if I want to visit all the families before night, to let them know that you are here."
"They tell me that you are unwell," was the kind reply.
"Nothing the matter with me! Only a little stiff from sleeping out in the woods last night!"
"Of course, you'll never own up that you are sick," said his mother.
"Why should I own up, when I am not sick," said Owen; "besides, the ride will only do me good."
"If you do not feel strong enough to visit all the houses," said Father Byrne, rising from the table and walking out upon the porch, "return home, and let some of the other boys go in your place."
"Ow'n, dim me ride?" said Robin.
"Won't you come and finish your dinner before starting?" asked his mother.
Owen did not hear either appeal, however, but galloped away, only too anxious to escape from the company and the many questions about his night's experience.
Toward evening many of the Catholics came to the house for confession. Master and slave, old and young departed with the priest's blessing of peace, each holier and happier than when he came.