I have waited here to be first to greet you;
for you I am guilty of the sin of selfishness."
"Padre Dominic!" Don Mike grasped the out-stretched hand and wrung it
heartily. "Old friend! Old Saint! Not since my confirmation have I
asked for your blessing," and with the words he bent his head while the
old friar, making the sign of the cross, asked the blessing of God upon
the last of the Farrels.
Don Mike drew his old friend down to the seat the latter had just
vacated. "We will talk here for awhile, Father," he suggested. "I
expect the arrival of a friend in an automobile and I would not be in
the garden when he passes. Later I will visit with the others. Good
Father Dominic, does God still bless you with excellent health?"
"He does, Miguel, but the devil afflicts me with rheumatism."
"You haven't changed a bit, father Dominic."
"Mummies do not change, my son. I have accomplished ninety-two years
of my life; long ago I used up all possibilities for change, even for
the worse. It is good to have you home, Miguel. Pablo brought us the
news early this morning. We wondered why you did not look in upon us
as you passed last night."
"I looked in at my father's grave. I was in no mood for meeting those
who had loved him."
For perhaps half an hour they conversed; then the peace of the valley
was broken by the rattling and labored puffing of an asthmatic
automobile.
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