“Can’t think how I forgot them,” said Father Maloney pulling at his pipe.
John dropped on to the ground beside him.
“What a view!” he announced in a pleasantly conversational tone. “And what a day!”
“It is that indeed,” returned Father Maloney cheerfully.
John hugged himself inwardly.
“He’s got the hang of things again, brave old fellow!” he ejaculated mentally. “But I’d give a very great deal to know the veritable standpoint of affairs.”
Aloud he said. “Am I right in imagining that you are the chaplain of Delancey Castle?”
“I am,” said Father Maloney. “What made you think so?”
“Well,” said John airily, “one does not expect to see a superabundance of priests in a Protestant country, and when it comes to a minute spot such as this, where you happen to know there is one priest,—well, when you see him, you imagine he’s the one,” concluded John explicitly.
Father Maloney’s eyes twinkled.