The little old priest with the book in front of him seemed to have no comment to make.  He let his two friends ramble on, both overjoyed at the good fortune that had extricated Father Ryan from his dilemma.  But he was not reading.  He was thinking.  By and by he spoke.

“What did you say you preached on to-day, Father Ryan?”

“Why,” broke in Fanning, “he preached on the Seminary.  Didn’t I tell you!  And a good sermon—­”

“Yes, I preached on the Seminary,” said Father Ryan.

“But did I not hear Father Fanning say that you pledged every dollar that came into the collection to the Seminary.”

“Why, surely,” said Father Ryan, “but this did not come in through the collection.”

“Yes,” persisted Father Barry, “but did you not say that the strange man told you to put it into the collection?”

“Why—­yes—­yes, he did say something like that.”

“Well, then,” urged Father Barry, “is it not a question to be debated as to whether or not you can do anything else with the money?”

“Oh, confound it all, Barry,” cried Father Fanning.  “You are a rigorist.  You don’t understand this case.  Now there’s no use bringing your old syllogisms into this business.  This man is in a hole.  He has got to get out of it.  What difference is it if I put my money in one pocket or in the other pocket.  This all belongs to God anyhow.  The thousand dollar note was given to the Church, and the most necessary thing now is to pay the debt on that part of it that’s here.  Why the Seminary doesn’t need it.  The old Procurator would drop dead if he got a thousand dollars from this parish.”

“Well, so far as I can see,” said Father Barry, “what you say does not change matters any.  Father Ryan promised every dollar—­and every cent for that matter—­in that collection to the Seminary.  This money forms part of the collection.  I know perfectly well that most men would argue as you do, but this is a case of conscience.  The money was given for a specific purpose, and in my judgment, if Father Ryan uses it for any other purpose than the one for which it was given, he simply will have to make restitution later on to the Seminary.

“That’s an awful way of looking at things,” said Father Fanning.  “Confound it, I am glad I don’t have to go to you for direction.  Why, its getting worse instead of better, you are.  The giver of this money would be only too glad to have it go to pay off the debt.  What does he know about the Seminary?  He was attending the little church out here, and whatever good he got from his visit came through Father Ryan and his people.  He is under obligation to them first.  Can’t you see that it does not make any difference, after all.  It is the same thing.”

“No, it is not the same thing,” said Father Barry.  “Perhaps we are too much tempted to believe that gifts of this kind might be interchangeable.  We are full of zeal for the glory of God at home, and that means that sometimes we unconsciously are full of zeal for our own glory.  Look it up.  I may be wrong, and I do not want to be a killjoy; but we would not wish our friend here to act first and do a lot of sorrowful thinking afterward.”