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Conceit an' snobbery an' the desire for a soft job takes about nine out of ten of them.... Well, well, I'm runnin' away from myself. What I want to say is this: the Catholic church'll never be worth a damn in Ireland or anywhere else, 'til its priests are gentlemen. No church is worth a damn unless its priests are gentlemen!" "But what do you mean by gentlemen, Mr. Quinn?"
All Upton will be as glad as glad can be, and the old church'll be crammed again. Mr. Warden's done all a man could do; but everybody said he wasn't you and we longed for you back again, but not too soon no, no, not too soon." "But my wife," he said; "has she been ill all the time?" For a minute or two she could not find words to answer his question.
"I guess not, deacon. I said all I knowed." "Then you ought to know a good deal more. You've only got at the beginning of things. No church'll take you into membership if you don't believe more than that." "Maybe I'll know it in the course of time, deacon, if I keep on a-learnin'." "Maybe you will, if you do keep on.
They'll have one hell of a burst at the saloon when the work's done, and every feller'll be guessin' he could have done the other feller's job better than he could have done it himself, and the women folk'll just say what elegant critturs their men are, till they get home sossled. Then they'll beat hell out of 'em. They'll sure be proud of it, but I don't guess the church'll be proud of them.
The Old Lady's black eyes flashed with interest. "I didn't know Miss Gray was a member of the choir," she said. "Jined two Sundays ago. I tell you, our music is something worth listening to now. The church'll be packed to-morrow, I reckon her name's gone all over the country for singing. You ought to come and hear it, Miss Lloyd."
"The Methodist folks are havin' quite a time to-night, ain't they?" "How d'ye do, Eldredge," was the great man's salutation, not at all effusive. "Where does all this crowd come from? Didn't know there were so many people in the neighborhood." "'Most everybody's out to-night. Church'll make consider'ble money. Good evenin', Miss Colton. Mr. Carver, pleased to meet you again, sir."
"Mebbe not, dear," returned the dwarf, smothered in his throat. "An' the church'll be worser off'n you!" Troubled in spirit, Tess considered the letter a few minutes. "I s'pose they be gittin' up somethin' fer Christmas, an' I ought to go an' tell 'em I can't sing.
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