Toby stopped reluctantly, and he and Father Orin waited with visible unwillingness, until Tommy Dye came up again and stammeringly began what he had to say. He did not know how to address a priest. He had never before had occasion to speak to a churchman of any denomination. So that he now plunged in without any address at all: "I say--who pays for them there youngsters, yonder?" he blurted. Father Orin merely looked at him in silence for a moment, and then gathered up the reins once more. Tommy Dye saw that there was something amiss, that he had made some mistake, and not knowing what it was, he resorted to the means which he usually employed to set all matters right. He hastily plunged his hand in the outer pocket of his coat, and then dropped the bottle back in its place still more hastily, after another glance at the priest. "Well, I thought you might like it," he said with a touch of defiance, feeling it necessary to assert himself. "When a man's face is as red as yours, I don't see why a fellow mightn't ask him to take a drink." Father Orin laughed with ready good humor. "My face is red, my friend. I can't deny that fact; but the redness comes from a thin skin and rough weather. What is it you want? I haven't time to wait." "Say, I kinder thought, seeing you and the doctor with them babies just now,"--grinning again at the comical recollection--"that maybe you would let me come into the game. I'd like to take a hand in the deal, if there's room for another player. I'll put up the stakes right now." His hand went into his breeches pocket this time. "Here's the roll I won on the fall races. Put it all up on the game. What's the odds? Come easy, go easy." He held out the money. "I saw you at the court-house, too," he added sheepishly, as if trying to excuse what he did. "I beg your pardon, sir," said Father Orin, gravely. "I didn't understand. I've done you great injustice." "Hey? What did you say?" "The Sisters would be only too glad to use this money for those children, and for other little ones just as helpless and needy," murmuring something about the use purifying the source. "But I want you to take it to them yourself, and give it to them with your own hands." "Me! Old Tommy Dye!" The coarse face actually turned pale under its big freckles. Its dismay was so comical that Father Orin laughed till the woods rang with his hearty, merry voice. Toby turned his head in sober disapproval of such unseemly levity, and Tommy Dye was a good deal miffed. "'Pears to me you are mighty lively--and most of the time, too," he said, in a tone of offence, tinged with wonder. "Why not?" said the priest, still chuckling. "Why shouldn't I be lively?" Tommy Dye hesitated, more puzzled now than angry. "Well, you see, your job has always seemed to me just about the lonesomest there is."