ee for thy good."

"I've got eyes!" snapped Filomena. "Can't I see you're a priest?
What's the good of such as you? Fat, lazy fellows that lives on the
best o' the land, wrung out of the hard earnings o' the poor, and never
does a stroke o' work theirselves, but sits a-twirling o' their thumbs
all day long. That's what you are--the whole boiling of you! Get you
out o' my house, or I'll help you!"

And Filomena took up a formidable-looking mop which stood in the corner,
as if to let the priest clearly understand the sort of help which she
proposed to give him. She had tried this style of reception when the
Vicar took the liberty of calling on her some months before, with the
result that the appalled gentleman in question never ventured to renew
his visit, and told the anecdote with many shakes of the head over "that
she-bear up at the smithy." She understood how to deal with a man of
the Vicar's stamp, and she mistakenly fancied that all priests were of
his sort. Sadly too many of them were such lazy, careless,
self-indulgent men, who, having just done as much work as served to
prevent the Bishop or their consciences (when they kept any) from
becoming troublesome, let all the rest go, and thought their duty done.
But Father Thomas, as the Vicar had said, was cut from another kind of
stuff. Very sensitive to rudeness or unkindness, his feelings were not
permitted to override his duty of perseverance: and while he dearly
loved peace, he was not ready to buy it at the cost of something more
valuable than itself. While he might be slow to see his duty, yet once
seen, it would not escape him again.

The personal taunts which Filomena had launched at him he simply put
aside as not worth an answer. They did not apply to him. He was
neither fat nor lazy: and if Filomena were so ignorant as to fancy that
the clergy were paid out of the earnings of the poor, what did it
matter, when he knew they were not? He went straight to the root of the
thing. His words were gentle enough, but his tone was one of authority.

"Daughter, what an unhappy woman thou art!"

Filomena's fingers slowly unclosed from the mop, which fell back into
the corner. Father Thomas said no more: he merely kept his eyes upon
her. His calm dignity took effect at last. Her angry eyes fell before
his unchanged look. She was not accustomed to hear her abuse answered
in this manner.

"I just am!" she muttered with intense bitterness.

"Dost th