"I was sayin' to myself: 'Maybe ye'd come in before he went.' Here's Father Cruse I been tellin' ye about--and, Father, here's Mr.O'Day that's livin' wid us." A full-chested man of forty, in a long black cassock, standing six feet in his stockings, his face alight with the glow of a freshly kindled pleasure, rose from his chair and held out his hand.

"The introduction should be quite unnecessary, Mr.O'Day," he exclaimed in the full, sonorous voice of a man accustomed to public speaking.

"You seem to have greatly attached these dear people to you, which in itself is enough, for there are none better in my parish." Felix, who had been looking the speaker over, taking in his thoughtful face, deep black eyes, and more especially the heavy black eyebrows that lay straight above them, felt himself warmed by the hearty greeting and touched by its sincerity.

"I agree with you, Father, in your praise of them," he said as he grasped the priest's hand.

"They have been everything to me since my sojourn among them.