text: Grit was up early the next morning and ate breakfast in the Palmer House restaurant before walking over to St. Anthony Church. He walked into the sanctuary that he knew so well, the same one where his mother had left him so many years before.
  
  He walked down to the front and dropped to his knees and crossed himself, exactly as he'd been taught when he'd been a little boy. As he arose he saw a priest come from the south transept that he recognized.
  
  "Father Walsh, how are you?"
  
  "Well, I... do I know you?" Grit stuck out his hand and when the priest shook it, he said, "Grit Milburn, it is you, isn't it?"
  
  Nodding, Grit said, "It's nice to see you again, Father. It's been a long time."
  
  "Well, it's nice to see you too," he said. "Come with me into my office, and we'll talk for a while."
  
  They had a nice long talk, and Grit told Father Walsh all about his life. "I'm doing right well now, Father. My businesses are succeeding, so money is no longer a problem, and I have a lovely family."
  
  "So why are you in town?" the priest asked.
  
  "I'm here because of you apparently," Grit said. He then related the story of Gridleigh wanting to see him after Father Walsh had told him the story of Grit being found in the church as a young boy.
  
  "He thinks you're his son," Father Walsh said. "What do you think?"
  
  "It's a good possibility, but I won't know until the Pinkertons find my mother, if she's still alive. If she isn't, then we'll never know for sure."