egan
crooning. "Something like that, your reverence. You don't believe me,
but we have only our ears and our eyes to guide us."

"I don't say I don't believe you, Biddy, but you may be deceived."

"Sorra deceiving, your reverence, or I've been deceived all my life.
And now, your reverence, if you have no more business with me I will
go, for they are waiting in the chapel yard to hear me tell them about
the crown that was put upon my head."

"Well, Biddy, I want you to understand that I cannot have you
interrupting the Mass. I cannot permit it. The visions may be true, or
not true, but you must not interrupt the Mass. Do you hear me?"

The acolyte had opened the door of the sacristy, she slipped through
it, and the priest took off his cassock. As he did so, he noticed that
the acolytes were anxious to get out; they were at the window watching,
and when the priest looked out of the window he saw the people gathered
about Biddy, and could see she had obtained an extraordinary hold on
the popular imagination; no one noticed him when he came out of the
sacristy; they were listening to Biddy, and he stood unnoticed amid the
crowd for a few minutes.

"She's out of her mind," he said. "She's as good as mad. What did she
tell me--that Our Lord put a crown on her head."

It was difficult to know what to do. News of her piety had reached
Dublin. People had been down to Kilmore to see her and had given
subscriptions, and he understood that Biddy had enabled him to furnish
his church with varnished pews and holy pictures. A pious Catholic lady
had sent him two fine statues of Our Lady and St. Joseph. St. Joseph
was in a purple cloak and Our Lady wore a blue cloak, and there were
gold stars upon it. He had placed these two statues on the two side
altars. But there were many things he wanted for his church, and he
could only get them through Biddy. It was, therefore, his interest to
let her remain in Kilmore, only she could not be allowed to interrupt
the Mass, and he felt that he must be allowed to pass in and out of his
church without having to put up with extravagant salutations.

He was going home to his breakfast and a young man extremely interested
in ecclesiastical art was coming to breakfast with him. The young man
had a great deal to say about Walter Pater and Chartres Cathedral, and
Father Maguire feared he was cutting but a very poor figure in the eyes
of this young man, for he could not keep his thoughts on what the