Well, we talked the whole thing over; debated all possibilities, laughed at difficulties, cut through obstacles, leaped over obstructions, and, at last, saw in imagination, written on the cold, frosty air of December, the mystic legend, I WILL, surrounded by a gorgeous corona of orange blossoms. Then, of course, the superb unreason of women. Beata began to cry as I handed her over to Miss Leslie, who looked daggers at me, and I am quite sure called me, in her own mind, "A horrid old thing!" Father Letheby, after his unusually heavy confessional, was jubilant. Nothing exhilarates him like work. Given a scanty confessional, and he is as gloomy as Sisyphus; given a hard, laborious day, and he is as bright as Ariel. He was in uncommonly good spirits to-day. "By Jove, Father Dan," he said, as we walked home together to our little bit of fish, "I have it. I'll try him with the _Kampaner Thal!_" "The very thing," I replied. "Don't you think it would do? You know he regards all our arguments as so much special pleading, and he discounts them accordingly." "Of course," I said. "Wonder you never thought of it before!" "That is curious now. But you always find things in unexpected quarters. But you're sure 't will do?" "Quite sure. By the way, what _is_ the _Kampaner Thal?_" He looked squarely at me. "'Pon my word, Father Dan, I confess I sometimes think you are rather fond of a joke." "Come along, never mind," I replied. "After air and water, the power of a pleasant and kind word is the best and cheapest thing God gives us, His children." CHAPTER XVI VIOLENT CONTRASTS Christmas Day was a day of undiluted triumph for Father Letheby. There were great surprises in store for me. That is one of my curate's few faults--is it a fault?--that he is inclined to be dramatic. As he says, he hates to speak of a thing until it is beyond the reach of failure. Of all criticisms, the one he most dreads is, "I told you so." And so, on this Christmas morning, I had a series of mild, pleasant shocks, that made the bright, crisp, frosty, sunny morning all the more pleasant. It was a slight, because expected, surprise to see Captain Campion at the altar rails. He appeared at eight o'clock Mass. Thanks be to God! I manage still to use the sublime privilege given by the Church that morning, of being allowed to celebrate three times. I have not omitted it for fifty years. When I shall fail to say my three Christmas Masses, then you may take up your _Exequiæ_, and practise the _Requiem æternam_ for poor Daddy Dan.