"I'm glad of that," I remarked.
"Why?" O'mie spoke quickly.
"Oh, I was afraid he might go out West. It's hard on priests in the West."
O'mie looked steadily at me, but said nothing.
"Who taketh your plathe, O'mie?" Bud asked.
"That's the beauty av it. It's a lady," O'mie answered.
Somehow my heart grew sick. Could it be Marjie, I wondered. I knew money matters were a problem with the Whatelys, but I had hoped for better fortune through my father's help. Maybe, though, they would have none of him now any more than of myself. When Marjie and I were engaged I did not care for her future, for it was to be with me, and my burden was my joy then. Not that earning a living meant any disgrace to the girl. We all learned better than that early in the West.
"Well, who be thaid lady?" Bud questioned.
"Miss Letitia Conlow," O'mie answered with a grave face.
"Oh, well, don't grieve, O'mie; it might be worse. Cheer up!" I said gayly.