The priest glanced towards that valuable article of furniture, and responded heartily and admiringly:—
"It is, indeed, a wonderful bed."
"Sure there isn't its like in the place," resumed Mary. "It was me mother's bed, so it was—she looked very well when she was laid out on it," she added thoughtfully. "Very well, indeed, she looked! I always thought that Dan an' meself 'ud be waked in that bed, too. Well, well, the Lord knows best, doesn't he, yer reverence? But I'd think very bad of lettin' that bed out o' this to go anywhere on'y to yer reverence's house."
"Bless me!" cried Father Taylor, unable to restrain a surprised laugh; but he quickly composed his features.
"Aye, indeed, yer reverence, I'd be proud if ye'd let me make ye a present of it," said poor old Mary, trying to straighten her little bent back, and peering at him with anxious eyes. "Sure it's altogether too proud Dan an' meself 'ud be, an' ye wouldn't believe the beautiful nights' rests we do be gettin' out o' that bed."
"I'm quite sure you do," responded the priest warmly; "but upon my word, Mary, do you know I'm afraid the Bishop mightn't like it."
Mrs. Brophy was appalled at the magnitude of the idea. Father Taylor continued in a very solemn voice, but with a twinkle in his eye:—
"You see, Mary, we poor priests are not allowed luxuries, and if his lordship were to arrive unexpectedly and walk into my room and see that grand bed in the corner he might think it very queer."
"Would he now?" said Mary, in awestruck tones.
"You wouldn't like to get me into trouble, Mary, I'm sure," pursued Father Taylor. "The Bishop might think I was getting beyond myself altogether."