I knew in a moment it must be Father Dan, so I went flying downstairs
and found him in the hall, wearing the same sack coat (or so it seemed)
as when I was a child and made cupboards of its vertical pockets,
carrying the same funny little bag which he had taken to Rome and used
for his surplice at funerals, and mopping his forehead and flicking his
boots with a red print handkerchief, for the day was hot and the roads
were dusty.
He was as glad to see me as I to see him, and when I asked if he would
have tea, he said Yes, for he had walked all the way from the
Presbytery, after fasting the day before; and when I asked if he would
not stay overnight he said Yes to that, too, "if it would not be
troublesome and inconvenient."
So I took his bag and gave it to a maid, telling her to take it to the
guest's room on my landing, and to bring tea to my boudoir immediately.
But hardly had I taken him upstairs and we had got seated in my private
room, when the maid knocked at the door to say that the housekeeper
wished to speak with me, and on going out, and closing the door behind
me, I found her on the landing, a prim little flinty person with quick
eyes, thin lips and an upward lift of her head.
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