“‘It’s I, my Lord,’ I’ll make answer.
“Av course, he’ll know my voice, and, jumping up like a cricket, he’ll open the door as wide as the hinges will let it, and say quite politely—
“‘I’m proud to see you here, Father Frank. Walk in, if you plase.’
“Upon that I’ll scrape my feet, and walk in, and then St. Pether will say agin—
“‘Well, Father Frank, what have you got to say for yourself? Did you look well afther your flock; and mind to have them all christened, and married, and buried, according to the rites of our holy church?’
“Now, good people, I’ve been forty-five years amongst you, and didn’t I christen every mother’s soul of you?”
Congregation.—You did,—you did,—your Rivirence.
Father Frank.—Well, and didn’t I bury the most of you, too?
Congregation.—You did, your Rivirence.
Father Frank.—And didn’t I do my best to get dacent matches for all your little girls? I And didn’t I get good wives for all the well-behaved boys in my parish?—Why don’t you spake up, Mick Donovan?