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It is part of his last will and testament.
Nobody is particularly happy about making the trip, but what can we do?" The altar boy had been here a couple of years but had never heard of this custom.
It would be better if you waited until nine-thirty.
The church isn't open yet, and I'm not finished hoovering." The man on crutches glared angrily.
Young man, the only reason there's anything left of this building for you to hoover is on account of the gentleman in that woman's pocket." "I'm sorry?" "Mrs.
Wren," the man on crutches said, "would you be so kind as to show this impertinent young man the reliquary of ashes?" The woman hesitated a moment and then, as if awaking from a trance, reached in her sweater pocket and pulled out a small cylinder wrapped in protective fabric.
There, you see?" the man on crutches snapped.
Now, you can either grant his dying wish and let us sprinkle his ashes in the sanctuary, or I tell Father Knowles how we've been treated." The altar boy hesitated, well acquainted with Father Knowles' deep observance of church tradition... and, more importantly, with his foul temper when anything cast this time-honored shrine in anything but favorable light.
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