street so often to the house beyond the garden there."

In the Widow's voice there was a hint of her Irish ancestry, as, in her
kind blue eyes, buxom figure and cordial manner, there was more than a
hint of her warm-hearted, whole-souled nature.

"How do you like your new neighbor, Deborah?" asked the Doctor.

"Ah, Doctor, it's a fine big man he is, a danged fine man inside an' out.
Denny and me are almighty proud, havin' him so close. He's that sociable,
too, not at all like a priest. It's every blessed day since he's been
here he's comin' over to Denny in the garden, and helpin' him with the
things, a-talkin' away all the time. ''Tis the very exercise I need,'
says he. 'And it's a real kindness for ye to let me work a bit now and
then,' says he. But sure we kin see, 'tis the big heart of him, wishful
to help the bye. But it's queer notioned he is fer a preacher."

"Didn't I see you and Denny at church this evening?" asked the Doctor.

"You did that, sir. You see not havin' no church of our own within reach
of our legs, an' bein' real wishful to hear a bit of a prayer and a
sermon like, Denny an' me slips into the protestant meetings now and
then. After all there's no real harm in it now, do you think, Doctor?"

"Harm to you and Denny, or the church?" the Doctor asked.

"Aw, go on now, Doctor you do be always havin' your joke," she laughed.
"Harm to neither or both or all, I mane, for, of course--well, let it go.
I guess that while Denny and me do be sayin' our prayers in our little
cabin on this side of the street, and you are a-sayin' yours in your fine