Now completely confused, he knocked gently.
“Sister Ann… is everything alright in there?”
A brief pause.
Then the door creaked open just a little, and Sister Ann peeked out, looking unusually flustered.
“Oh, Father Dan… yes, everything is perfectly fine.”
Another loud cry echoed from inside.
Father Dan raised an eyebrow. “That… doesn’t sound like gas.”
Sister Ann hesitated, then sighed. “Alright, Father… you’d better come in.”
He stepped inside—and there, wrapped in a blanket, was a tiny baby lying in a basket.
Father Dan blinked. Once. Twice.
“Sister Ann…” he said slowly, “would you care to explain?”
She clasped her hands together nervously. “Well, Father… remember how I kept saying it was just gas?”
“Yes…” he said cautiously.
She nodded toward the baby. “Well… it finally passed.”
Father Dan stared at her in silence.
Then he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered, “That is the most… remarkable case of gas I have ever heard of.”
At that exact moment, the baby let out another loud cry.
Father Dan looked at Sister Ann and said dryly, “You might want to keep an eye on that… in case it happens again.”