Gabriel had been passing homes, calling upon the spirit of Christmas, to collect money for Christmas meals for the poorest of the town. He could not do enough to stop them from going hungry for most of the year, but at least on Christmas, he hoped that every family in his parish could have a hearty meal. Some people had slammed the door in his face as soon as they saw his long black cassock, Roman collar, and clerical saturno. Not everyone appreciated a catholic priest. But he had still encountered a lot of charity as well, and it cheered him. Although he faced disapproval from some of the wealthier members of his congregation, more and more working class people were coming to Mass, and he hoped that the Christmas support would encourage more to come.  

Collection tin under his arm, Gabriel passed the streets merrily, quite unaware of impending doom. He was in such good spirits that he passed the narrower, darker streets without a concern, despite the fact that it was already dark. Had he not just proven that the people of Whitby were good? Merry Christmas indeed!