This was news with a vengeance! An American who was "gey rich" might
be a millionaire! All kinds of rosy visions began to float through my
brain. Thoughts of the manifold additions and improvements which Val
was dying to make in the church; of the shinty club we were so anxious
to start, but could not for want of means; of the hall we planned to
build some day for concerts and social gatherings in the long winter
evenings--all started into new life at the prospect of a wealthy
Catholic returning to his native land with gold in his pocket and a
ready hand to scatter it liberally for the benefit of his kinsfolk!

"I suppose he's a Catholic," was the remark to which my mental plans
gave birth.

"Aye," said Bell, in a reproachful tone, "the Gowans wes all strict
Catholics. The mon would nae turn agen his chapel oot there, I'm
thinkin'."

(In Ardmuirland, be it known, "chapel" means the Catholic Church, and
"church"--or more frequently "kirk"--denotes exclusively a Protestant
place of worship; thus do penal laws leave their trail behind them!)

"Not likely!" I exclaimed boldly. For Bell began to look anxiously at
me, as though the staunch Catholicism of this particular Gowan might be
open to question. "Our religion is as free out there as any other;
that's one good quality in republican America which our government
lacks at present."

Still, my own mind misgave me a little. I knew of more than one of my
countrymen who had been "strict Catholics" once, but who had lamentably
fallen off through knocking about the world. However, we were not