And she tried ineffectually to frown.
"It only remains now," she continued, "that Rex shall be instructed, and that won't take long; and then received, and make his First Communion, and that won't take long; and then—and then—"
She paused. I was studying attentively a seagull that was poised motionless over the heaving waters.
"Father Dan, you're becoming very unkind."
"Indeed? I was only waiting for the date and circumstances of the 'then.'"
"Well, you see, it can't be May; because the people have a foolish superstition about May; though I should so like to be—to be—married under our Lady's auspices. But the first day in June. Won't that be delightful? And it must be right under the statue of the Sacred Heart; and I shall put there such a mass of roses that day; and we shall both go to Holy Communion, and you'll say the nuptial Mass, Father Dan—"
"I?"
"Yes, of course. Who else, I should like to know?"
"I thought you would be bringing down an Archbishop or even a Cardinal—"
"Now, you're jesting as usual. I'll have no one but you—you—you—to marry me; and perhaps, if I were not asking too much, the choir might sing—"