There comes a time in a young priest's life, as comes for us all, when a little distraction is necessary.

Oats is sitting at a table, twiddling his thumbs and smiling over at Mary in a manner intended to disguise his complete loss for conversational topics.

... It's not that he minds having promised to have a discussion about his complete ( Read more... )

Oats takes a deep breath of night air.

It's cold and pure and spring-fresh already-- and to make things even better, there is absolutely no one singing out here.

Hands in his pockets, he wanders along the edge of the forest, looking up at the moon.

He may be humming softly to himself.

But not singing.

Oats is downstairs a little later than is his wont-- but when the late-evening tea cravings strike, what's a fellow to do?

The fire looks warm and inviting, and so he wanders over in that direction with his mug of tea. When he arrives, he finds a very sleepy Mary Lennox on the couch.

Well, it is a bit past her bedtime ( Read more... )

Oats has left his books in his room for the evening, a feat which had required a supreme act of will, and is now wandering along the hall in the direction of the stairs. He hopes that he runs into Miss Faith, because he's managed to bless quite a bit of holy water for her.