Take this story for what it is worth; apply it as you will. It has only one meaning for me.
In Ireland, they call the wandering beggars, who live an itinerant existence, living from one town to another—they call them tinkers. A certain tinker woman, then, came into the city of Cork. Down one of the quays, seeking the scraps that fall in these places, dragging three wretched children at the frayed hem of her skirt, she was seen by a Protestant vicar.
Shifting one bare foot behind the other, she bobbed him a curtesy.
“For the love an’ honour av God, yeer riv’rance, give a poor ’ooman a copper, that the Almighty blessin’s av God may discind on ye, yeer riv’rance. Oh, sure, God Almighty give ye grace.”
“I’m after walkin’ all the ways from Macroon, yeer riv’rance—an’ I in me feet.”
She held up a bare blistered foot, at the sight of which the Vicar shudderingly closed his eyes.
“Me husband, yeer riv’rance? Shure, glory be, I haven’t had a sight or a sound av him these two years. ’Twas the day Ginnet’s circus was in Dingarvin, an’ he along wid ’em clanin’ the horses, and faith that was the last I saw av him, good or bad. I’m thinkin’ he’s gone foreign—he has indeed.”
“Why don’t you go to a priest? He’s the person to help you—not me. I’m a Protestant clergyman.”
“Shure, I know that yeer riv’rance—an’ why would I be goin’ to a preyst, an’ I wid me three little children here—the poor darlin’s—they’ve had divil a bit to eat this whole day.”
The competitive instincts of the Vicar cried aloud with a resonant voice in his ear.
“Do you mean to say they haven’t been brought up in the Roman Catholic Church?” he asked quickly.
“They have not indeed. Shure, what good would that be doin’ them?”
“Haven’t they been baptised at all into any Church?”
The Vicar felt in his pocket and produced a sixpence.
“Get them something to eat,” said he, “and then come and see me. I shudder when I think they haven’t been baptised. Have you?”
“I was when I was a child,” said she, “but I haven’t been to Mass these fifteen years. Glory be to God, what’ud I be doin’ at Mass when I might be gettin’ charity from a grand gintleman like yeerself?”
“My poor woman,” said the Vicar, “it was Christ’s wish that we should help the poor. I’m thinking, too, of the hereafter of those poor little children of yours. What hope of salvation do you think there is for them if they have never been baptised?”