“That’s all right,” said Father Ryan.  “I am glad to have you, but this is Saturday and to-morrow is Sunday, and—­”

“Now, now, go easy, young man, go easy.  I simply won’t preach.  It is no use asking me.  I am on a vacation, I tell you.  So is Barry.  He won’t talk, so I have to defend him.  You wouldn’t want a man to work on his vacation, would you?”

“Well, if you won’t, you won’t,” replied Father Ryan, “but you will say the late Mass, anyhow?  You’ll have to do something for your board.”

“All right, I will, then.  Barry can say his Mass in private, and you say the first, yourself.  Then you can preach as short and as well as you can, which is not saying much for you.”

“Well, seeing that it is Seminary Collection Sunday,” interrupted Father Ryan, “I won’t lack for a subject.”

Father Ryan had a great weakness for the Seminary, which was entitled to an annual collection in the entire Diocese.  He had studied there for six years and, since his ordination, not one of his old professors had been changed.  Then he knew his obligations to the Seminary; he was one of those who took obligations seriously.  So Father Fanning was obliged, after hearing the sermon next day, to change his mind regarding his friend’s ability to preach well.  Father Ryan’s discourse was an appeal, simple and heartfelt, for his Alma Mater.

He closed it very effectively:  “I owe the Seminary, my dear friends,” he said, “about all that I have of priestly equipment.  Nothing that I may ever say or do can repay even a mite of the obligation that is upon me.  As for you, and the other Catholics of this Diocese, you owe the Seminary for nine-tenths of the priests who have been successfully carrying on God’s work in your midst.  The collection to-day is for that Seminary.  In other words, it is for the purpose of helping to train priests who shall take our places when we are gone.  On the Seminary depends the future of the Church amongst you:  therefore, the future of religion in your families.  Looking at this thing in a selfish way, for the present alone, there is perhaps no need of giving your little offering to this collection; but if you are thinking of your children and your children’s children, and the future of religion, not only in this community but all over our State, and even in the Nation, you will be generous—­even lavish, in your gifts.  This is a poor little parish.  We have struggled hard, God knows, to build our church, and we need every dollar we can scrape together; but I would rather be in need myself than refuse this appeal.  I am entitled by the laws of the Diocese to take out of the collection the average amount of the Sunday collection.  I would be ungrateful if I took a cent, so I don’t intend to.  Every dollar, every penny that you put into this collection shall be sent to the Bishop for the Seminary; to help him educate worthy priests for our Diocese.”

After Mass, Father Fanning shook hands with the preacher.