“Who that, Grand-mère?” Germain, escaped as usual from parental custody, popped up near my feet, pointing curiously at the Reverend Caldwell. “That’s a minister, darling. Auntie Bree and Uncle Roger are getting married.” “Ou qu’on va minster?” I drew a deep breath, but Jamie beat me to it. “It’s a sort of priest, but not a proper priest.” “Bad priest?” Germain viewed the Reverend Caldwell with substantially more interest. “No, no,” I said. “He’s not a bad priest at all. It’s only that … well, you see, we’re Catholics, and Catholics have priests, but Uncle Roger is a Presbyterian—” “That’s a
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mirth from TFC
