The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1908-06-28

little of that effect it had on them,
faith.
You'll stick TO what you said last
night, Father Kate remarked at
length I'm a trembling tone.
4 viii. I'm determined you'll take
vacation for month. I've my own
reasons"
We'll discuss it again. she said de-
family. But now, Father. youn lie
down a bit?'
Kate MacAvoy," doomed the little
father. you know I'm expected at the
Sunday school"
And you up all night till airly mass
wild Pasquale di Pietro! l knew he'd
not die this time: he niver does. Ny
eurses OF that family! Blanca iii Pie
tro's in the hall now along wild that
pushin' mob that's been dhroppin' in
since o'clock. l shud think she'd be
ashamed to show her face the way her
family keeps dyin' on you and bein'
borrun and maTryin' and fightin-"
Have conduct. woman" cried Fa-
Their Kinsellash; "and open the door.
for / hear Michael MacMahon in the
hall"
Kate obeyed, and Michael MacMahon,
the superintendent of the Sunday school
of st. Angeles, entered, his broad Shout
ders dwarfing everything in the room
Father Kinsellagh liked best TO see him
at his teamster work, his strong body
in a blue shirt. comfortably hunched
forward, his big, mellow voice calling
greetings TO his fellow drivers on the
streets. But even in his i'll fitting Sun
day clothes. MacMahOn was a pleas
ant sight. His eyes We're very blue
and honest under his irregular black
locks of hair. and his long. thin mouth
looked more inclined 10 smile than 10
draw down. He cast a timid look at
Kate. who shifted at him. and then for
getting her he made a long stride for
ward and beamed down affectionately
on the little father
"Wel. Michael. and how are you?"
asked the priest
sure. it's like rain on a thirsty field
TO see you. Father. And how are you
afther your vacation. Father?"
"Of a mind never To take another. %
grumbled Father Kinsellagh "Troth. l
leave a peaceable congregation for
three weeks. and when I return yes
terday, what do 1 find? The Di Pie
tros cursing and raving politely against
the few Irish I do keep in my church,
ard daring TO hint I favor We. and set
ting ali the other Italians by the ears.
And. Michael. the black curses Pas
quale poured on you in particular
MaeMahon's blue eyes burned in his
angry face.
Thin Di PietrOs"' he burst out. AS
sure as eggs is mate the divil is busy
wild thin the whole Nv the day. If
iver ] spake the civil worrud to ould
Pasquale agin. may no child pray over
me grave, and"
stop that cursing this mortal min
ute!' shouted the little father And
you, woman" he added. whirling in
his chair to look at Kate. whose face
was alight with laughter. you must
be doing better than grinning like an
omsdhon az the honest lad that's too
good for you, anyway"
This direct reference 10 the fact that
Kate had for a year steadily rejected
Nfichaefs addresses subdued both of
them, and the little father himself, for
he said in a gentler tone:
You say Blanca di PietrO is here.
Kate? I'll let her in"
He went 10 the dining room door. re-
flecting that there were worlds with
in worlds in this ward in which he
lived; a little Bohemia, a little Russia.
a little Orient, each with its character
istic flavor. its own gestures, tones, col
ors. and now he was opening the door
on bit of little Italy. The hall was
almost full Of people: its dimness was
softened by blazing bits of color: here
a yellow scarf. there a crimson shawl.
Noisy whispers ceased as the father
glared out; soft dark eyes cleaned at
him; one little child leaned forward
and said boldly, "EccO. Padre" and
then half whimpered as her mother
ierked her backward by the arm. Fa-
Their Kinseliagh dropped his head 10
conceal the tender smile that rushed
10 his lips. Then he said sternly, in
beautiful Italian:
"AIl except Blanca di Pietro so to