Father O’Malley drew back his curtains to a bright, cheerful morning. His approving gaze swept over the sparkling dew on the rectory lawn where a mistle thrush tugged at an earthworm. The priest hurried to shower, dug out his fell boots from the bottom of the cupboard, teeming chaotically with assorted footwear, and tested their comfort by stamping his feet on the bedroom carpet. Satisfied, he strolled to the landing and sniffed the delicious aroma of frying bacon.
“Ah, a blessed good morning to you, Mary Doherty! I know no one as punctual as you.”
“Good morning, Father; I hope you slept well. One egg or two?”
“Like a babe, Mary. Two, I think, as I’m planning on some fell walking this morning.”
“And a lovely day it is for it, too!”
The priest smiled and took his place at the table, re
