* * * * *
JULY 20. Oh dear! I am dragging all these other poor dears into my
deceptions. Christian Ann does not mind what lies, or half-lies, she has
to tell in order to save pain to her beloved son. But the old doctor!
And Father Dan!
To-day itself, as Martin's mother would say, I had to make my poor old
priest into a shocking story-teller.
I developed a cough a few weeks ago, and though it is not really of much
account I have been struggling to smother it while Martin has been
about, knowing he is a doctor himself, and fearing his ear might detect
the note.
But this afternoon (whether a little damp, with a soft patter of sweet
rain on the trees and the bushes) I had a rather bad bout, at which
Martin's face looked grave, until I laughed and said:
"It's nothing! I've had this sort of cough every summer since I was
born--haven't I, Father Dan?"
"Ye-es."
I shall have to remember that in my next confession, but what Father Dan
is to do I really don't know.
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