back to the house when they met the mother running to meet
them and bringing her own child, that she had found in its bed, when
she got back from the town, sleeping, as well and as sound as ever it
was.

"And now, Ellen," said Mrs. O'Brien, "will you let me try, in ways
that I know, that can do no harm, whether this is your own child or
not? And if it's not, you'll have your own back, as well as it was
last night."

"This is my own child," Ellen answered, "and it's not by any silly
tales like that that you can make me believe it isn't. I'll not have
you doing anything of the sort. If you know anything that can help a
baby when it's sick, you may do that, but nothing else."

"I do know one thing that can help a sick baby," Mrs. O'Brien answered
"and that I'll do, if you like it or not. If that thing there is one
of the Good People, as I think, it's not sick, and it will live for
thousands of years after we are dead. We can neither help it nor much
hurt it. But if that is your child, it doesn't look to me as if it
would live an hour. I'll not try whether it's yours or not, but if
it's yours I'll not stand by and see its soul die, that ought to be
the soul of a Christian. Ellen Sullivan, that child will be christened
before I leave this house."

"Christened!" poor Ellen cried in amazement. "And who's to christen
him? We couldn't get a priest here in an hour--maybe not to-day."

"There's no need of a priest," Mrs. O'Brien said; "I'll christen him
myself. Bring me some water there, Peter."

"But sure you can't do that," Peter protested. "Nobody but a priest
could christen a child."

"I can christen the child as well as a priest," said Mrs. O'Brien;
"you take a child to the priest to be christened, when it's easy and
convenient, but when there's no priest near, and the child is sick and
seems likely to die before one can come, anybody can christen it; and
that christening stands, and it never has to be christened after.
That's the law of the Church. Bring me the water. I never saw a child
that seemed more likely to die than this one, if it's a child at all."

And Peter brought the water.

"What do you call the child?" Mrs. O'Brien asked.

"I think we'll call him Terence," Peter answered. "That was my
grandfather's name, on my mother's side, and a decent man he was, and
uncommon fond of myself when I was a bit of a gossoon, till he died,
Heaven rest his soul! and I think I'd like to name the boy after him."

Now