"Yes, I have often thought of that same thing," said Father John, when Jack remarked as much to him one day. "Here is Brother Barnaby ready to condemn one to I know not what, if one so much as looks at a pretty girl in the parish or gives her in all innocence a red apple or a flower, and yet he can pore for hours over all sorts of love stories, and those none of the nicest, as far as I can understand, and it is all right because they are in Latin. For my part I could wish there had never been any such language as Latin, unless just enough for the mass perhaps. I don't know what it is good for, except to puzzle men's brains and procure whippings for little boys, who when they grow up remember the whippings and mostly forget the Latin." "And now about the abbot's letter, your reverence," said Jack. "If you had the notes ready, I would write it for you." "Oh, dear, my son! You are as bad as Father Barnaby himself—no, not as bad, because you are good-natured and don't lecture me." "I should hope I knew my duty far better than to lecture my elders and betters," said Jack. "I would not hurry you for the world, only you know great men like the abbot are sometimes offended at delay in their business, and he might speak about it to Father Barnaby—" "Yes, that is true indeed," said the priest with alacrity. "That would be worse than setting the dogs on me. Well, I will make the necessary inquiries this very day, and you shall begin the letter tomorrow. It is a fine thing to be a scholar, though it sometimes brings people into trouble, as you see. If you did not know Latin, you would not be burdened with writing letters for me." "I am sure I am very glad to do as much and more for you," said Jack, honestly. "You have been very kind to me, besides giving me that beautiful book, and I owe you amends for that unlucky mistake of mine on the hillside the other day." "As to that, the mistake was mine, for I had no business there," replied Father John frankly. "I never should have thought of such a thing if I had not been worried into it by that pestilent sacristan of mine, who I wish was in Rome or farther away. He hath somehow—Just open that door, will you?" Rather startled by the priest's tone, Jack threw open the door so quickly that the sacristan, who was close behind it, had no time to get out of the way. The heavy door opening outward and coming upon him unexpectedly gave him a smart blow on the head, and caused him, after staggering a few paces backward, to assume a sitting posture with more haste than was either dignified or convenient. As the poor clerk sat rubbing his forehead with a dazed expression, Father John burst out laughing. "Truly, eavesdropping is a business which does not flourish in these parts," said he, as soon as he could recover breath. "Tut, never mind it, good brother. I dare say you meant no harm, but you should be careful not to stand so near the door."