"They are not intended to form the everyday walking-suit of a country parish priest," I replied. "They must be carefully put by for the present."
I took my hat and strolled down to see Alice. After telling her all the news, and Father Letheby's triumphs, I said:—
"The bishop wants me to change my name, too!"
"You are not going?" she said in alarm.
"No; but his Lordship thinks I have been called Father Dan long enough; he wants me now to be known as the Very Rev. Canon Hanrahan."
"It's like as if you were going away to a strange country," she said.
"Do you think the people will take kindly to it?" I said.
"No! no! no!" she cried, shaking her head; "you will be Father Dan and Daddy Dan to the end."
"So be it!" I replied.
I returned home, and just before dinner I penned two letters—one to my good nuns, thanking them for their kindness and generosity; the other to the bishop, thanking his Lordship ex imo corde also, but declining the honor. I was too old, et detur digniori. Then I got my camphor and lavender, and laid the fragrant powder between the folds of the mozzetta. And then I took a sheet of paper and wrote:—