He is the most sensible priest we have.
If all the clergy were like him I should find it easier to
believe."
"But religion has nothing to do with the clergy. It is quite
possible to think the clergy foolish and yet to believe that the
religion is the true one."
"I like the clergy far better than their religion, and believe
them to be worthy of a better one. I like Father Stafford, and you
like having a priest to dinner. Let us ask him."
"I'm afraid, Ned, that Father Stafford is getting old. He rarely
leaves the house now and Father Maguire does all the work of the
parish."
She liked clerical gossip; the church was finished, and how Biddy
heard the saints singing in the window made a fine tale.
"So now we have a local saint."
"Yes, and miracles!"
"But do you believe in miracles?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't like to say. One is not obliged to
believe in them."
"I'm sure you would enjoy believing in Biddy."
"Oh, Ned, how aggressive you are, and the very day you come back."
But why hadn't she asked him about America and about his speeches?
He had looked forward to telling her about them. She seemed to
care nothing about them; even when she spoke about them after
dinner, he could see that she was not as much interested in
politics as she used to be. However, she wore a white dress and
black stockings; her red hair was charmingly pinned up with a
tortoise-shell comb, and taking her upon his knee he thought it
would be well to please himself with her as she was and forget
what she was not.
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