The household, fast asleep, did not hear; but he persisted until the door was opened to him and his burden.
Captain Farnsworth unclosed his bloodshot eyes, at about eight o'clock in the morning, quite confused as to his place and surroundings.

He looked about drowsily with a sheepish half-knowledge of having been very drunk.

A purring in his head and a dull ache reminded him of an abused stomach.

He yawned and stretched himself, then sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair.

Father Beret was on his knees before the cross, still as a statue, his clasped hands extended upward.
Farnsworth's face lighted with recognition, and he smiled rather bitterly.