Father Murphy was standing on a corner with a troubled look on his face. Pat, a parishioner, happened by, and asked: "Are you sick, Your Reverence?"
"No, Pat," replied the padre, "But I got a big problem."
"And what is that?" asked Pat.
"Well," explained Father Murphy, "I was invited out to dinner this evening, but I forgot the name of the family and the number of the house. All I remember is that it was on this street."
"No sweat, Padre, no sweat," declared Pat confidently. "Wait here a minute."
Off went Pat and wherever he saw a lighted porch or a house lighted more than usual, he knocked on the door and asked: "Is Father Murphy here?"
After several negative answers he came to a house where his knock was answered by the head of the house who blurted: "No, Father Murphy is not here, but he is supposed to be. He was supposed to be here at 6, and it's after 6 now."
Like a shot from a gun Pat ran down the steps and back to the corner.
"Hurry, Padre, you eat at 3124. They're waiting."
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