Father Murray of Sihasset

Ann bustled into Father Murray's study next morning with something on her mind. When Ann had something on her mind the pastor was always quite likely to notice it, for Ann never had learned how to conceal her thoughts. Good, pious, and faithful she was, but with an inherent love of gossip. She had loyal feelings to express this morning, but long experience as the housekeeper of priests had made Ann wary of approaching a subject too abruptly.

"Mrs. Thompson was here, yer Reverence."

"Yes? What was it this time?"

"Sure, 'twas about her young b'y Jack, the good-fer-nothin'. He's drinkin' ag'in."

"And she wants me to--"

"Give him the pledge."

"All right; but why didn't you bring him in?"

"Well, wan raison is that he isn't sober yet and she couldn't bring him wid her. The other is that yer Reverence has sp'iled more good pledges on that lad than would kape the Suprame Coort in business for tin years."

Father Murray smiled and Ann knew she had made considerable progress, but not quite enough yet.

"I'll go and see him to-morrow morning. He'll be sober then," said the priest, looking down longingly at his work.

But Ann had another case. "The choir's busted."

Father Murray put down his book. Here was disaster indeed. "Again?"

"Yes, ag'in. The organist, Molly Wilson, is insulted."

"Who insulted her?"

"Ye did. She says ye didn't appreciate her music for the Confirmation."