as expressing the fact that Father Greer had arrived.

"Tell her I'm coming this minute," he said, rising ponderously to his
feet; "say to them to go down without me."

He locked up the fees that were lying on the table, being a careful
man, and washed his huge, pale hands with the particularity that a
doctor brings to that task. Huge though they were, they had the
sensitiveness that is the gift of music, and is also part of the
endowment of the surgeon.

"Ah, here he is now!" said Mrs. Mangan, as the Doctor came,
enormously, into the small dining-room. "For shame for you, Francis,
to be so late."

"Ah, don't scold him, Mrs. Mangan!" said the priest simpering
conventionally. "Wasn't it ministering to the afflicted that delayed
him! Doctors mustn't be subjected to the rules that bind ordinary
people!"

"That's right, Father," said the Doctor, beginning to carve a large,
cold goose, with the skill that his trade bestows; "stand up for me
now! Don't let her bully me--though indeed I might be used to it by
this time!"

"Doesn't he look like it, the poor fella!" scoffed Mrs. Mangan,
directing a melting look at her husband; "starved and pairsecuted!
That's what he is!"

Father Greer smiled permissively over the rim of his glass of whisky