and faith when one was so happy? With a lift of
her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged away his seriousness.

"If you could only see me, Father, as I am in my dream. Oh, it's
beautiful I am! And smart! And rich!"

"Not money," broke in the priest with a ring of contempt.

"Sure, no, not money! But fine things. Oh, Father," she clasped her
hands childishly. "It's fine things I want. The very finest in the
world! And I want my Danny to want them, too."

"Fine things," he repeated slowly. "And will ye know the fine things
from the dross, child? That wealth is more times what ye give, aye, than
what ye get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart of you is
unselfish--"

"What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking frogs in the Widow
Finnegan's pond you are! But, sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, as
real as real, as I lay dreaming--Destiny herself, as fine as you please,
sailing to the new world, a-spinning on her loom. She had Moira
O'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this
minute it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl's
eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but my
poor heart's so light it hurts--here."

The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch it
bowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness in
the kindly eyes.

"It's God's blessing I ask for ye--and yes, may your dream come true--"

"Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered Moira.

"For the both of ye!"

"Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me and no blessing," laughed
the girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be
off, Father dear."

"Wait." The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came out
carrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping
the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of green
beads.

"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with the
youthful certainty that all lovely things were her due.

"Yes. To remember my blessing." He regarded them fondly, lifted them
that she might see their beauty against the sun's glow. "'Twas in a
little shop in London I found the pretty things."

Moira knew how much he must love them as a keepsake--that visit to
London was only next in his heart to the trip to America. She caught his
hands, beads, tissue wrappings and all.

"Oh, it's precious they are! And you too!"