ore shame to me for
calling what is done by Providence wicked. But it's a strange world,
Kathleen, this one; no one seems to be in their proper place. There's
Father Healy, him that should be a Bishop, still a priest."

"Why not a Cardinal, or the Holy Father himself?" laughed Kathleen.

"And why not? It's a wise Pope the Father would make," answered Mrs.
Quirk. "Not that I am finding any fault with the Holy Father," she added
quickly; "he is a great man, the greatest in the whole world, and the
wisest."

Kathleen O'Connor exercised a remarkable influence on the old lady. Mrs.
Quirk had needed a companion, and an interest in her new life; these she
found in Kathleen. Together they slowly transformed the house, Samuel
Quirk grumbling and protesting at each innovation, while he aided them
the while with his purse. In a phaeton drawn by a quiet old pony, they
travelled about the district, never missing a daily visit to the
Catholic Church.

"I go out to visit my friends. Shall I miss calling on the best Friend
ever I had?" Mrs. Quirk asked Kathleen. "In Collingwood I never missed
the morning Mass, nor the afternoon visit. Here it is too far to go to
Mass every day, but the Good Lord would miss me if I did not come once
in the day to see Him."

"If I am not good, it will not be your fault," laughed Kathleen.

"It will be nobody's fault but your own; but you couldn't help being
good. Didn't Father Healy tell me----."

"Hush!" cried Kathleen; "you must not give Father Healy's secrets away."

At the church gates they held a daily conference with Molly Healy. She
had interested Mrs. Quirk in her gamins, and was accustomed to draw upon
the old lady's purse when the Presbytery funds were low, or Father
Healy obdurate to her appeals.

Molly Healy acted as sacristan in the church, and Father Healy was
accustomed to say:

"If you attended to everything as you do to the Altar, you would be a
treasure to the husband that came seeking you."

"It's not many are doing that," replied the girl. "I could not count
them on my fingers--because, even I can't count what does not exist."

"How many would you be expecting at eighteen? You are but a child," he
answered. "Well, the Altar is a credit to you. You make the brass shine
as if it were gold."

"Gold it would be, if I had my way, and the glass precious stones. But I
do the best with what there is," replied Molly.

She dearly loved to hear a word of praise in return for her