he would not again make the same mistake. And if he played his cards well, this old woman might be the answer to his prayers.

  "I must confess, Father, that this past year has been very pleasant," she said. "You're a far more satisfactory shepherd than old Father Kelly was, God rot his soul." Her voice on the last phrase was suddenly harsh, vindictive. His eyes lifted to her face, twinkling. "My dear Mrs. Carson! That's not a very Catholic sentiment."

  "But the truth. He was a drunken old sot, and I'm quite sure God will rot his soul as much as the drink rotted his body." She leaned forward. "I know you fairly well by this time; I think I'm entitled to ask you a few questions, don't you? After all, you feel free to use Drogheda as your private playground-off learning how to be a stockman, polishing your riding, escaping from the vicissitudes of life in Gilly. All at my invitation, of course, but I do think I'm entitled to some answers, don't you?" He didn't like to be reminded that he ought to feel grateful, but he had been waiting for the day when she would think she owned him enough to begin demanding things of him. "Indeed you are, Mrs. Carson. I can't thank you enough for permitting me the run of Drogheda, and for all your gifts-my horses, my car."

  "How old are you?" she asked without further preamble. "Twenty-eight," he replied.

  "Younger than I thought. Even so, they don't send priests like you to places like Gilly. What did you do, to make them send someone like you out here into the back of beyond?"

  "I insulted the preamble," he said calmly, smiling. "You must have! But I can't think a priest of your peculiar talents can be happy in a place like Gillanbone."

  "It is God's will."

  "Stuff and nonsense! You're here because of human failings-your own and the bishop's. Only the Pope is infallible. You're utterly out of your natural element in Gilly, we all know that, not that we're not grateful to have someone like you for a change, instead of the ordained remittance men they send us usually. But your natural element lies in some corridor of ecclesiastical power, not here among horses and sheep. You'd look magnificent in cardinal's red."

  "No chance of that, I'm afraid.