the workmen. She was there when the first spadeful of
earth was thrown up, and as soon as the walls showed above the ground
she began to ask the workmen how long it would take them to reach the
windows, and if a workman put down his trowel and wandered from his
work she would tell him it was God he was cheating; and later on, when
the priest's money began to come to an end he could not pay the workmen
full wages, she told them they were working for God's Own House, and
that He would reward them in the next world.

"Hold your tongue," said a mason. "If you want the church built why
don't you give the priest the money you're saving, and let him pay us?"

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, Pat Murphy. It isn't for myself I am
keeping it back. Isn't it all going to be spent?"

The walls were now built, and amid the clatter of the slater's hammers
Biddy began to tell the plasterers of the beautiful pictures that would
be seen in her window; and she gabbled on, mixing up her memories of
the different windows she had seen, until at last her chatter grew
wearisome, and they threw bits of mortar, laughing at her for a crazy
old woman, or the priest would suddenly come upon them, and they would
scatter in all directions, leaving him with Biddy.

"What were they saying to you, Biddy?"

"They were saying, your reverence, that America is a great place."

"You spend a great deal of your time here, Biddy, and I suppose you are
beginning to see that it takes a long time to build a church. Now you
are not listening to what I am saying. You are thinking about your
window; but you must have a house before you can have a window."

"I know that very well, your reverence; but, you see, God has given us
the house."

"God's House consists of little more than walls and a roof."

"Indeed it does, your reverence; and amn't I saving up all my money for
the window?"

"But, my good Biddy, there is hardly any plastering done yet. The laths
have come in, and there isn't sufficient to fill that end of the
church, and I have no more money."

"Won't you reverence be getting the rest of the money in America? And I
am thinking a bazaar would be a good thing. Wouldn't we all be making
scapulars, and your reverence might get medals that the Pope had
blessed."

Eventually he drove her out of the church with his umbrella. But as his
anger cooled he began to think that perhaps Biddy was right--a bazaar
might be a good thing, and a distribution of