So many people had come to see it that the priest could hardly get to her.

The priest tucked her in and got what rest he could on the bench.

The old woman would be only too happy to believe that the priest had gotten her name wrong.

The priest got down from his chair - the meeting was over.

"I hope the priest won't get any ashes on it," she said.

He stayed holed up where the priests could not get to him.

"How do these priests get the money to buy anything?"

The priests get a large fraction of all the offerings.

The old priests, the Administration was saying in so many words, had gotten it wrong.

The priest slowly got to his feet, dripping and filthy.