While this conversation was going on, the dominie and the veteran were
walking churchward, for, as the former had signified his intention of
going to a place of worship, the old man insisted on accompanying him.
"Oi was born a Catholic, sorr, and a Catholic Oi'll doie, though my
darter is a Pratestant, and what's more, a Prosbytarian. She rades her
Boible an' Oi rade moine, an' there's sorra a bit av differance betwane
thim. If the church is good enough for her, it's good enough for the
loikes av me."
"That is what I call being a Catholic in the truest sense of the term.
We will not deprive people of the kingdom of Heaven because they refuse
to go our way."
"Till me now, sorr, what's that that's pertindin' to be my dear young
misthress, Miss Ceshile?"
"An old soldier knows how to keep a secret, I am sure. It is the famous
detective, Mr. Nash."
"Sure I hope, by my sowl, that he'll make the crathur gnash his tayth.
It was all I could do to kape my hands aff him, as we were walkin' along
to mate yez. Him to make up to the cornel's darter, the misherable,
insignifikint, bad shpokin, thavin' scrap av impidence!"
The church bell had ceased ringing, the horses and waggons were in the
driving shed without any attendant, and, as the pair approached, they
could hear the sound of hearty singing coming through the open windows.
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