Charred Wood

"Why," she answered, "I had met him long before. Don't you remember that day in London when you said good-bye to your congregation? Have you forgotten that Ruth was there?" she asked archly, half reproachfully.

Father Murray's eyes lit up. "You remembered, then! Yes, yes. He told me of the little girl. And you really remembered?"

He was standing in front of her now, holding her at arm's length and looking straight at her glowing face.

"I remembered. I knew that day that you were suffering, and though I was only eight years old, I cried for you while I was sitting all alone in the big pew. He passed me, and smiled. When he came out again, he saw that I was still crying. I asked him about you, and he said something that went straight to my little girl's heart: he praised you. To soothe me, he took me in his arms and--well," she added blushing, "he kissed me. I fell in love with that big man right there; I never lost the memory of him or that kiss. When I saw him here at Killimaga, and when he told me what I wanted so badly to hear, I knew he was worth waiting for. If you want to know more about the ways of youth, daddy dear," she continued saucily, "only know that I would have waited a century--if I could have lived so long, and if I had had to wait."

"Tell me, Ruth, what shall I give you? I alone have sent nothing," he said. "'Ask and you shall receive,' you know. What is to be my poor offering for the wedding feast?"

"Will you promise beforehand to grant it?"

"If I can, dear, I will grant it."

"Goody!" she cried, in almost childish glee. Then she stepped lightly away, her hands behind her, and, like a mischievous child, she leaned slightly forward as she spoke. "Here it is: Wear your purple to-day--I like it."

"But, child, I don't want--"

One white hand was raised in protest, and he seemed once more to be in London, a tiny figure before him, the blue eyes open wide and the graceful head nodding emphasis to each word: "You--promised--uncle."

Even so the child had spoken. Monsignore was learning more of the ways of youth. He sighed.

"All right," he granted, "I will wear the purple."

"Thank you--and God bless you, Monsignore."

"And God bless you, my child." Monsignore lifted his hand in blessing, then hurried to the church to prepare for the Mass.