Mickie Daly's Diary, April 1935

So we said goodby to this very kind growsir and goodby to my mother. (Her face was very pink. I think she was thinking that I am a great responsibility to her. So I am. But I'll make it all up some day. And then she will be proud of me and rejoice at having me for her boy.)

We drove back. We went a long way round, for Father Dale had to call at some places to see sick people. It was a beautiful day. I had not notised before  how very blue the sky was. I never remember to have seen it quite that culler. It was a sunshiny day, and the air in front of the car was dancing like as if it was happy. My heart was dancing, too. It's great to find out you have not killed a man; have not even sent him to hospital, after all your angwish. All the people looked happy, and I felt I loved them all. The Catholic men (and quite a lot of non-Catholics) took their hats off to Father Dale. I felt very proud to be sitting beside him. I would rather sit in the car beside Father Dale than sit in the King's car. The King's all right. They say he is a very kind, polite and good man, and doesn't show off a bit. But I'd rather drive beside Father Dale, because he's a priest. He's a kind man, a perfict man; and, besides that, he's a priest. You feel near to God when you are near Father Dale-as if Father Dale's right hand was clasping Our Lord's hand, and you had hold of Father Dale's left hand. The three of us, together. It is a beautiful feeling.

It was half-past twelve when we got back to the presbytery, and Father Dale said that I was to come in and have some lunch with him. The other priest was away, and he said he was lonely.

The housekeeper showed me where to wash my hands, and she brushed my hair herself. (She's a kind woman. I was afraid for a minute she was going to kiss me, after she brushed my hair; but I am happy to say she didn't.)

I tried to be very polite at the table. I hope I was. Sometimes when I am in a hurry at my meals at home, my father calls me "a young barbearean." I hope I did not apeer a barbeareein to Father Dale. I ate slowly and I kept my lips closed. I didn't spill anything. For a wonder! And I didn't drop my knife or fork.

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