Tim had not left the hotel a hundred yards behind him when he met a Catholic priest.
"Good afternoon, Father," said Tim, and raised his hat.
"Good afternoon, sir. And is it"—the cane was shifted from the right hand to the left, and the hand thus freed extended to Tim—"Mr. Riley—isn't it?"
"It is; but how did you know, Father?"
"Oh, if Peter Kearney's long-legged Dinnie hasn't told half the quarries before this of your name and business 'twill be because he's burst a tire or broke his neck rolling down the steep hills. And so you're to speak to us to-night?"
"God willing, I am."
"And you're not discouraged?"
"And why should I be discouraged?"
"Why? You must be a stranger to these parts."
"I am."