ure a small biography of the
saint. She received the book a few days after, and as she turned over
the leaves she heard the children coming home from school, and she took
the book out to them, for her sight was failing, and they read bits of
it aloud, and she frightened them by dropping on her knees and crying
out that God had been very good to her.

She wandered over the country visiting churches, returning to Kilmore
suddenly. She was seen as usual at sunrise and at sunset feeding her
poultry, and then she went away again, and the next time she was heard
of was in a church near Dublin celebrated for its stained glass. A few
days after Ned Kavanagh met her hurrying up the road from the station,
and she told him she had just received a letter from the Munich agent
saying he had forwarded her window. It was to arrive to-morrow.

It was expected some time about mid-day, but Biddy's patience was
exhausted long before, and she walked a great part of the way to Dublin
to meet the dray. She returned with it, walking with the draymen, but
within three miles of Kilmore she was so tired that they had to put her
on the top of the boxes, and a cheer went up from the villagers when
she was lifted down. She called to the workmen to be careful in
unpacking the glass; and when they were putting it up she went down on
her knees and prayed that no accident might happen.

At sunset the church had to be closed, and it was with difficulty that
she was persuaded to leave it. Next morning at sunrise she was knocking
at the door of the woman who was charged with the cleaning of the
church, asking for the key.

And from that day she was hardly ever out of the church; the charwoman
began to complain that she could not get on with her work, and she was
telling the priest that Biddy was always at her elbow, asking her to
come to her window, saying she would show her things she had not seen
before, when their conversation was interrupted by Biddy. She seemed a
little astray, a little exalted, and Father Maguire watched her as she
knelt with uplifted face, telling her beads. He noticed that her
fingers very soon ceased to move; and that she held the same bead a
long time between her fingers. Minutes passed, but her lips did not
move; her eyes were fixed on the panes and her look was so enraptured
that he began to wonder if Paradise were being revealed to her.

And while the priest wondered, Biddy listened to music inconceivably
tender. She had