She had Moira
O'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this
minute it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl's
eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but my
poor heart's so light it hurts--here."
The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch it
bowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness in
the kindly eyes.
"It's God's blessing I ask for ye--and yes, may your dream come true--"
"Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered Moira.
"For the both of ye!"
"Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me and no blessing," laughed
the girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be
off, Father dear."
"Wait." The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came out
carrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping
the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of green
beads.
"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with the
youthful certainty that all lovely things were her due.
"Yes. To remember my blessing." He regarded them fondly, lifted them
that she might see their beauty against the sun's glow.
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