ike a woman. Father
Kelly stood over me, and he looked, from where I sat below him,
unhumanly tall. He held out his hand.

"'Give them to me,' he said.

"'But, Father, you don't want to see them!' I burst out. 'I'm going to
destroy them. You--you mustn't see them! Let me burn them----'

"'Give them to me, my son," he repeated, and I gave them up like a
child. It was remarkable.

"'At any rate, I warn you,' I began. But he only smiled.

"'When you are warned of fever in a house, do you pass it by, my son?'
he asked me softly. 'But this is a different matter.'

"I admit that I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Well, he read them all through placidly, and then he sighed and shook
his head.

"'Poor things, poor things!' he said, 'and now we'll burn them. There
is nothing I can do.'

"So we burned them there and put back the bricks and he muttered some
short prayer or other and made the sign of the cross over the fireplace
and then turned to me.

"'Didn't I see some bread and ham and a cheese in that wire safe in the
cellar, doctor?' says he. 'I had no supper to-night.'

"We went down and got them and a bottle of Scotch, too, and I remember
perfectly that we polished off half a small ham, a whole Edam cheese, a
loaf of bread and nearly a bottle of the Scotch--the bottle wasn't
quite full, to begin with, you see.

"After we'd finished we had a smoke, and then I stared at him straight.

"'What's the meaning of it all, Father?' I asked.

"'I can't tell you, my son,' said he (he never called me so before or
since that night) 'but you may be sure of one thing--God reigns. And
now, what are you thinking to do?'

"'Burn down this house,' said I, 'and send for my wife to come back.'

"'By all means send for your wife,' says he quickly, 'but if you're
bound to destroy this house--which strikes me as a very good sort of
house--why not give it me?'

"'To you?' I cried. 'You don't mean that you'd use it?'

"'I could put a parochial school for girls there next week,' he said
cheerfully. 'We need one at this end badly, but I hadn't the money."

"'And you'd put innocent girls in this place?'

"'Give me a chance, and then come hear Sister Mary Eustacia sing with
'em, next Sunday,' he said.

"So I deeded it to him, land and all, and they had a great kick-up
there with little boys in lace night-gowns, and incense and what not.
And, by George, the girls did sing for me, too, with Sister
Somebody-or-other bowing