Patsy spread her hands deprecatingly. “Why shouldn’t it be sweet like? Faith! is it anything but a bit of the very road we’ve been traveling since we were born, the bit that lies over the hill and out of sight?” She took the woman’s work-worn hands in hers. “’Tis terrible, losing a little lad; but ’tis more terrible never having one. God and Mary be with ye!”
When Patsy left the house a few minutes later Joseph’s pilgrim staff was in her hands, and she stopped on the threshold an instant to ask the way of Joseph’s father.
The good man was dazed with his grief and he directed Patsy in terms of his own home-going: “Keep on, and take the first turn to your right.”
So Patsy kept on instead of returning to the cross-roads; and chance scored another point in his comedy and continued chuckling.
Meanwhile Joseph’s father went back to the spare chamber.
“’S she gone?” inquired Joseph’s mother.
“Yep.”
“You know, the boy believed in her.”
“Yep, I know.”