“An intendent, my dear Mr. Saunders,” said Father Murray, “is quite a personage on the other side.  He is the man who runs the business affairs of a castle.  He has charge of all the property.  It is quite a good position; better, in fact, than that of a private detective.  Then, you see, his care of the servants and continued watchfulness over the property makes detective experience somewhat valuable.  If the salary suits you, by all means I would advise you to accept the offer.  Besides, you know, Mr. Saunders, we have all gotten to like you very much.  Apart from the fact that you are what Mrs. O’Leary would call ’a black Protestant,’ I look upon you as one of my own.”

Saunders laughed. “‘A black Protestant’ indeed!  A lot of difference that makes with you.  Why, you were ‘a black Protestant’ yourself, Father Murray, and in some ways I believe they only whitewashed you.”

“Now, Mr. Saunders,” reproved Father Murray, “that is not very complimentary.  There is no whitewash or veneer about my Catholicity.”

Despite the quizzical good-humor of the priest, there was a touch of seriousness in his voice, and Saunders hastened to explain.

“I didn’t mean it quite that way, Father—­only it strikes me that there is always a difference between what I call the ‘simon-pure Catholic’ and the one that wasn’t born a Catholic.”

“Well, Mr. Wise Man,” said the priest, “perhaps you’ll explain the difference.”

Saunders looked puzzled.  “It is a hard thing to explain, Father,” he said, and then hesitated; “but I’ll try to do it.  In the first place—­but this doesn’t go for you—­I think that the convert is more bigoted than the other kind.  Now, honestly, don’t you?”

Father Murray was amused.  “I am glad, Mr. Saunders,” he replied, “that you leave me out of it.  That is a real compliment.  Now, let us put it this way:  If you had been the possessor of a million dollars from the time of your birth, it would be a matter of course with you, would it not?”

“Certainly.”

“But if you should suddenly acquire a million dollars, you would naturally feel very much elated about it.  Is that not true?”

“Yes—­but what then?”

“That is the way it is with converts to anything.  They suddenly acquire what to them is very precious and, like the newly-made millionaire, they are fearful of anything that threatens their wealth.  They become enthusiasts about what they have—­and I must confess that some of them even become a bit of a nuisance.  But it is a good sign.  It is a sign of sincerity, and you cannot overlook sincerity.  There is too little of it in the world.”

“I am mighty glad now,” said Saunders, “that you haven’t got it.”

“What?  The sincerity?”

“Oh, Lord, no!—­the bigotry.  Anyhow, if I stay here, you won’t have much trouble with me for, like a certain man I once read about, the church I don’t go to is the Methodist.”