At your service

"At your service, father."
The church stood in the darkness like a block of ice: it was melting away in the heat. The roof had fallen in in one place, a coign above the doorway had crumbled. The priest took a quick sideways look at Pedro, holding his breath in case it smelt of brandy, but he could see only the outlines of the face. He said—with a feeling of cunning as though he were cheating a greedy prompter inside his own heart: "Tell the people, Pedro, that I only want one peso for the baptisms. …" There would still be enough for the brandy then, even if he arrived in Las Casa like a beggar. There was silence for as long as two [162] seconds and then the wily village voice began to answer him: "We are poor, father. One peso is a lot of money. I—for example—I have three children. Say seventy-five centavos, father."

Miss Lehr stretched out her feet in their easy slippers and the beetles came up over the veranda from the dark outside. She said: "In Pittsburgh once ..." Her brother was asleep with an ancient newspaper across his knee: the mail had come in. The priest gave a little sympathetic giggle as in the old days; it was a try-out which didn't come off. Miss Lehr stopped and sniffed. "Funny. I thought I smelt—spirits."
The priest held his breath, leaning back in the rocking-chair. He thought: How quiet it is, how safe. He remembered townspeople who couldn't sleep in country places because of the silence: silence can be like noise, dinning against the ear-drums.
"What was I saying, father?"
"In Pittsburgh once ..."
"Of course. In Pittsburgh ... I was waiting for the train. You see I had nothing to read: books are so expensive. So I thought I'd buy a paper—any paper: the news is just the same. But when I opened it—it was called something like Police News. I never knew such dreadful things were printed. Of course, I didn't read more than a few lines. I think it was the most dreadful thing that's ever happened to me. It ... well, it opened my eyes."
"Yes."
"I've never told Mr. Lehr. He wouldn't think the same of me, I do believe,SHIPPING INFO., if he knew."
"But there was nothing wrong ..."
"It's knowing, isn't it ...?"
Somewhere a long way off a bird of some kind called: the lamp on the table began to smoke, and Miss Lehr leant over and turned down the wick: it was as if the only light for miles around was lowered. The brandy returned on his palate: it was like the smell of ether that reminds a man of a recent operation before he's used to life: it tied him to another state of being. He didn't yet belong to this deep tranquillity: he told himself—in time it will be all right, I shall pull up,Website, I only ordered three bottles this time. They will be the last I'll ever [163] drink, I won't need drink there—he knew he lied. Mr. Lehr woke suddenly and said: "As I was saying ..."
"You were saying nothing, dear. You were asleep."
"Oh, no, we were talking about that scoundrel Hoover."
"I don't think so,Link, dear. Not for a long while."
"Well," Mr. Lehr said, "it's been a long day,fake uggs. The father will be tired too ... after all that confessing," he added with slight distaste.