The priest asks, 'Is that you, Dicky?'
'Yes, Father, it is.'
'And who was the girl you were with?'
'I can't tell you, Father, I don't want to ruin her reputation.'
'Well, Dicky, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now. Was it Mary Walsh?'
'I cannot say.' 'Was it Teresa Brown?'
'I'll never tell.'
'Was it Margaret Doyle?'
'I'm sorry, but I cannot name her.'
'Was it Anne O' Neil?'
'My lips are sealed.'
'Was it Catherine O' Tool, then?'
'Please, Father, I cannot tell you.'
The priest sighs in frustration. 'You're very tight lipped Dicky, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself.'
Dicky walks back to his pew, and his friend Tommy slides over and whispers, 'What did you get?'
'4 Months holiday and five good leads'.
