re's Mr. O'Day that's livin' wid us."

A full-chested man of forty, in a long black cassock, standing six feet
in his stockings, his face alight with the glow of a freshly kindled
pleasure, rose from his chair and held out his hand. "The introduction
should be quite unnecessary, Mr. O'Day," he exclaimed in the full,
sonorous voice of a man accustomed to public speaking. "You seem to have
greatly attached these dear people to you, which in itself is enough,
for there are none better in my parish."

Felix, who had been looking the speaker over, taking in his thoughtful
face, deep black eyes, and more especially the heavy black eyebrows that
lay straight above them, felt himself warmed by the hearty greeting and
touched by its sincerity. "I agree with you, Father, in your praise
of them," he said as he grasped the priest's hand. "They have been
everything to me since my sojourn among them. And, if I am not mistaken,
you and I have something else in common. My people are from Limerick."

"And mine from Cork," laughed the priest as he waved his hand toward his
empty chair, adding: "Let me move it nearer the table."

"No, I will take my old seat, if you do not mind. Please do not move,
Mr. Cleary; I am near enough."

"And are you an importation, Father, like myself?" continued Felix,
shifting the rocker for a better view of the priest.

"No. I am only an Irishman by inheritance. I was brought up on the soil,
born down in Greenwich village--and a very queer old part of the town it
is. Strange to say, there are very few changes along its streets since
my boyhood. I found the other day the very slanting cellar door I used
to slide on when I was so high! Do you know Greenwich?"

He was sitting upright as he spoke, his hands hidden in the folds of his
black cassock, wondering meanwhile what was causing the deep lines on
the brow of this high-bred, courteous man, and the anxious look in the
deep-set eyes. As priest he had looked into many others, framed in the
side window of the confessional--the most wonderful of all schools for
studying human nature--but few like those of the man before him; eyes so
clear and sincere, yet shadowed by what the priest vaguely felt was some
overwhelming sorrow.

"Oh, yes, I know it as I know most of New York," Felix was saying; "it
is close to Jefferson Market and full of small houses, where I should
think people could live very cheaply"; adding, with a sigh, "I have
walked a great deal abou