"Indeed, your Reverence," replied Peter, "it wasn't necessary to mintion
it, considherin' the way she was cut off from among us, widout even time
to confess."
"But blessed be God," said the daughter, "she received the ointment at
any rate, and that of itself would get her to purgatory."
"And I can answer for her," said Peter, "that she intended, as soon
as she'd get everything properly settled for the childhre, to make her
sowl."
"Ah! good intentions," said the priest, "won't do. I, however, have
forewarned you of your duty, and must now leave the guilt or the merit
of relieving her departed spirit, upon you and the other members of her
family, who are all bound to leave nothing undone that may bring her
from pain and fire, to peace and happiness."
"Och! och! asthore, asthore! you're lyin' there--an', oh, Ellish,
avourneen, could you think that I--I--would spare money--trash--to bring
you to glory wid the angels o' heaven! No, no, Father dear. It's good,
an' kind, an' thoughtful of you to put it into my head; but I didn't
intind to neglect or forget it. Oh, how will I live wantin' her,
Father? When I rise in the mornin', avillish, where 'ud be your smile
and your voice? We won't hear your step, nor see you as we used to do,
movin' pleasantly about the place.
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