The girl sat up immediately, clutching the bedsheet in shock.
“Father!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
The priest looked startled for a moment, then quickly pointed toward the Bible lying between them.
“My child,” he said calmly, “place your hand on the Holy Book.”
Confused and nervous, she did.
The priest nodded seriously.
“Now,” he said, “do you feel that?”
She blinked.
“Feel what?”
He smiled.
“Under the Bible… there’s a hotel key.”
The girl gasped and jumped back.
“Father! That’s outrageous!”
The priest sighed dramatically and shook his head.
“My dear…”
He lifted the Bible and held up the key.
“I was trying to tell you before you started shouting.”
She stared at him.
“You mean…”
“Yes,” the priest replied.
“This is the wrong room!”
For a second she stood frozen.
Then she burst out laughing so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
“You frightened me to death!”
The priest chuckled and headed toward the door.
“Well,” he said with a grin, “next time, perhaps let the sermon finish before the panic begins.”
And as they walked out, the priest added one final line that left her laughing all the way down the hallway:
“Even miracles need the right room number.”
