"It's Pauline!" said the Shepherd.
"Sure she's one o' the saints o' God!" the widow exclaimed. "She's started a school for the children o' them Eytalians an' Poles. She's tryin' to make 'em good Americans."
"I'll never forget that night," Mr. Blenkinsop remarked.
"If ye don't fergit it, I'll never mend another hole in yer pants," the widow answered.
"I've never blabbed a word about it to any one but Mr. Singleton."
"Keep that in yer soul, man. It's yer ticket to Paradise," said the widow.
"She goes every day to teach the Poles and Italians, but I have her here with me always," the Shepherd remarked. "I'm glad when the morning comes so that I can see her again."
"God bless the child! We was sorry to lose her but we have the pictur' an' the look o' her with the love o' God in her face," said the Widow Moran.
"Now light yer pipe and take yer comfort, man," said the hospitable widow, after the dishes were cleared away. "Sure it's more like Christmas to see a man an' a pipe in the house. Heavens, no! A man in the kitchen is worse than a hole in yer petticoat."