‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that worked with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say the Board would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I can put in a word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the times is changed since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest was no more thought of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now there isn’t a spalpeen of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me in the street. Oh, a note from me will go a good way with the Board, and you’ll not miss the chance for want of my good word--I promise you that.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ ‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be greatly obliged to you.’ ‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’--his voice sank almost to a whisper--‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear that I was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the Archbishop, and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be made.’ ‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am--I mean, my father being a convert, and----’ ‘Say no more,’ said the priest--‘say no more. Your father was a good man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of priests, Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my neighbours. I don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about “sourfaces” and “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down here at the other end of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion or praise. But what do I care as long as they let me alone to do my work for the people? I’m not afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you won’t want to get me into trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many of our priests would rather have grand churches than contented people. They’re fonder of Rome than they are of Ireland.’ ‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, I shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ ‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is that I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of your forefathers.’