GENERAL JOHN REGAN

By George A. Birmingham

Copyright, 1913 By George H. Doran Company

 TO CHARLES H. HAWTREY who has allowed me to offer this story to him in memory of times that were very pleasant to me. July 1913

Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER I

The Irish police barrack is invariably clean, occasionally picturesque, but it is never comfortable. The living-room, in which the men spendtheir spare time, is furnished with rigid simplicity. There is a table, sometimes two tables, but they have iron legs. There are benches tosit on, very narrow, and these also have iron legs. Iron is, of course, harder than wood. Men who are forced to look at it and rub their legsagainst it at meal times are likely to obtain a stern, martial spirit. Wood, even oak, might in the long run have an enervating effect on theirminds. The Government knows this, and if it were possible to have tablesand benches with iron tops as well as iron legs police barracks inIreland would be furnished with them. On the walls of the living-roomare stands for arms. Here are ranged the short carbines with which, in extreme emergencies, the police shoot at the other inhabitants ofIreland. The sight of these weapons serves to remind the men that theyform a military force. 

Near the carbines hang a few pairs of handcuffs, unobtrusively, becauseno one wants to emphasize the fact that the police in Ireland have todeal with ordinary wrong doers as well as with turbulent mobs. Ornamentof every kind is rigorously excluded from these rooms. It is all verywell to aim at the development of the aesthetic faculty for children byputting pictures and scraggy geraniums in pots into schoolrooms. No onewants a policeman to be artistic. But the love of the beautiful breaksout occasionally, even in policemen who live in barracks. ConstableMoriarty, for instance, had a passion for music. He whistled betterthan any man in Ballymoy, and spent much of his leisure in working upthrilling variations of popular tunes. 

Being confined by the call of duty to the living-room of the barrack inBallymoy for a whole morning, he had accomplished a series of runs andtrills through which the air of "The Minstrel Boy" seemed to strugglefor expression. His attention was fixed on this composition, and not atall on the newspaper which lay across his knees. 

At twelve o'clock he rose from the bench on which he was sitting andallowed the newspaper to fall in a crumpled heap on the floor athis feet. He stretched himself and yawned. Then he glanced round thebarrack-room with an air of weariness. Sergeant Colgan, his tunicunbuttoned, his grey flannel shirt open at the neck, dozed uncomfortablyin a corner. Moriarty looked at him enviously. The sergeant was muchthe older man of the two, and was besides of portly figure. Sleep cameeasily to him under the most unpromising circumstances. Moriarty was notmore than twenty four years of age. He was mentally and physically anactive man. Before he went to work on "The Minstrel Boy" he had wooedsleep in vain. Even a three days' old copy of the Weekly Freeman hadbrought him no more than a series of stupefying yawns. If a man cannotgo to sleep over a back number of a weekly paper there is no use histrying to go to sleep at all. He may as well whistle tunes. 

Moriarty left the living-room in which the sergeant slept and went outto the door of the barrack. He stared across the market square. The sunshone pitilessly. Except for a fat white dog, which lay asleep in thegutter opposite the shop of Kerrigan, the butcher, no living thingwas to be seen. Hot days are so rare in west of Ireland towns that thepeople succumb to them at once. Business, unless it happens to be marketday, absolutely ceases in a town like Ballymoy when the thermometerregisters anything over eighty degrees. Moriarty stretched himself againand yawned. He looked at the illustrated poster which hung on a boardbeside the barrack door. It proclaimed the attractiveness of service inthe British army. It moved him to no interest, because he had seen itevery day since he first came to Ballymoy. The gaudy uniforms depictedon it excited no envy in his mind. His own uniform was of sobercolouring, but it taught him all he wanted to know about the discomfortof such clothes in hot weather. His eyes wandered from the poster andremained fixed for some time on the front of the office of the ConnachtAdvocate. The door was shut and the window blind was pulled down. Animaginative man might have pictured Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, theeditor, penning ferocious attacks upon landlords at his desk inside, or demonstrating, in spite of the high temperature, the desperatewickedness of all critics of the Irish Party. But Moriarty was bytemperament a realist. He suspected that Thaddeus Gallagher, divested ofhis coat and waistcoat, was asleep, with his feet on the office table. Next to the newspaper office was the Imperial Hotel, owned and managedby Mr. Doyle. Its door was open, so that any one with sufficient energyfor such activity might go in and get a drink at the bar. Moriarty gazedat the front of the hotel for a long time, so long that the glare oflight reflected from its whitewashed walls brought water to his eyes. Then he turned and looked into the barrack again. Beside him, justoutside the door of the living-room, hung a small framed notice, whichstated that Constable Moriarty was on guard. He looked at it. Then hepeeped into the living-room and satisfied himself that the sergeantwas still sound asleep. It was exceedingly unlikely that Mr. Gregg, theDistrict Inspector of the Police, would visit the barrack on such a veryhot day. Moriarty buttoned his tunic, put his forage cap on his head, and stepped out of the barrack. 

He crossed the square towards Doyle's Hotel. A hostile critic ofthe Royal Irish Constabulary—and there are such critics even of thisexcellent body of men—might have suspected Moriarty of adventuring insearch of a drink. The great heat of the day and the extreme dulnessof keeping guard over a barrack which no one ever attacks might haveexcused a longing for bottled porter. It would have been unfair to blameMoriarty if he had entered the bar of the hotel and wakened Mr. Doyle. But he did no more than glance through the open door. He satisfiedhimself that Mr. Doyle, like the sergeant and Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, was sound asleep. Then he passed on and turned down a narrow laneway atthe side of the hotel. 

This led him into the yard at the back of the hotel. A man of delicatesensibilities would have shrunk from entering Mr. Doyle's yard on ahot day. It was exceedingly dirty, and there were a great many decayingthings all over it, besides a manure heap in one corner and a pig-styein another. But Constable Moriarty had no objection to bad smells. He sat down on the low wall of the pig-stye and whistled "KathleenMavourneen. " He worked through the tune twice creditably, but withoutattempting variations. He was just beginning it a third time when a doorat the back of the hotel opened and a girl came out. Moriarty stoppedwhistling and grinned at her amiably. She was a very pretty girl, butshe was nearly as dirty as the yard. Her short skirt was spotted andstained from waist-band to the ragged fringe where there had once beena hem. Her boots were caked with dry mud. They were several sizes toolarge for her and seemed likely to fall off when she lifted her feetfrom the ground. A pink cotton blouse was untidily fastened at her neckwith a brass safety pin. Her hair hung in a thick pig-tail down herback. In the higher ranks of society in Connacht, as elsewhere, girlsare generally anxious to pose as young women at the earliest possiblemoment. They roll up their hair and fasten it with hairpins as soon astheir mothers allow them. But girls of the peasant class in the west ofIreland put off the advance of womanhood as long as they can. Wiserthan their more fashionable sisters, they dread the cares andresponsibilities of adult life. Up to the age of twenty, twenty-one, or twenty-two, they still wear their hair in pig-tails and keep theirskirts above their ankles. 

"Is that you, Mary Ellen?" said Constable Moriarty. 

The girl stood still. She was carrying a bucket full of a thick yellowliquid in her right hand. She allowed it to rest against her leg. Asmall portion of its contents slopped over and still further stained herskirt. She looked at Constable Moriarty out of the corners of her eyesfor a moment. Then she went on again towards the pig-stye. She had largebrown eyes with thick lashes. Her hair was still in a pig-tail, andher skirt was far from covering the tops of her boots; but she hada precocious understanding of the art of looking at a man out of thecorners of her eyes. Moriarty was agreeably thrilled by her glance. 

"Is it the pig you're going to feed?" he asked. 

"It is, " said Mary Ellen. 

A very chivalrous man, or one trained in the conventions of what iscalled polite society, might have left his seat on the wall and helpedthe girl to carry the bucket across the yard. Moriarty did neither theone nor the other. Mary Ellen did not expect that he would. It was herbusiness and not his to feed the pigs. Besides, the bucket was veryfull. That its contents should stain her dress did not matter. Itwould have been a much more serious thing if any of the yellow slop hadtrickled down Constable Moriarty's beautiful trousers. 

She reached the pig-stye, lifted the bucket, and tipped the contentsinto a wooden trough. Constable Moriarty, still seated on the wall, watched her admiringly. Her sleeves were rolled up above the elbows. Shehad very well-shaped, plump, brown arms. 

"There's many a man, " he said, "might be glad enough to be that pig. "

Mary Ellen looked up at him with an air of innocent astonishment. 

"Why would he then?" she said. 

"The way he'd have you bringing his dinner to him, " said Moriarty. 

This compliment must have been very gratifying to Mary Ellen, but shemade no reply to it. She set down the empty bucket on the ground andrubbed her hands slowly on the sides of her skirt Moriarty probablyfelt that he had done as much as could be expected of him in the way ofpretty speeches. He whistled "Kathleen Mavourneen" through once whileMary Ellen wiped her hands dry. She picked up her bucket again andturned to go away. 

"Tell me this now, " said Moriarty. "Did ever you have your fortunetold?"

"I did not, " she said. 

"It's what I'm good at, " said Moriarty, "is telling fortunes. There wasan aunt of mine one time that was terrible skilful at it. It was hertaught me. "

"It's a pity she had no more sense. "

"If you was to sit up on the wall beside me, " said Moriarty, "and if youwas to lend me the loan of your hand for one minute——"

"Get out, " said Mary Ellen. 

"You'd be surprised, so you would, " said Moriarty, "at the things I'dtell you. "

"I might. "

"You would. "

"But I won't be, " said Mary Ellen, "for I've more to do than to belistening to you. "

"Where's the hurry?" said Moriarty. "Sure the day's long. "

The affair might have ended in a manner pleasant to Moriarty andinteresting to the pig. The attraction of the occult would in allprobability have overcome Mary Ellen's maidenly suspicions. She mightnot have sat upon the wall. She would have almost certainly have yieldedher sticky hand if a sudden sound had not startled Moriarty. A motor-carhooted at the far end of the village street. Moriarty jumped off thewall. 

"There's one of them motor-cars, " he said, "and the fellow that's in herwill be stopping at the barrack for to ask his way to somewhere. It's acurious thing, so it is, that them motor drivers never knows the way tothe place they're going to, and it's always the police they ask, asif the police had nothing to do but to attend to them. I'll have to beoff. "

He left the yard, hurried down the narrow lane, and crossed the roadto the barrack. Just as he reached it the car, a large, opulent-lookingvehicle, stopped outside Doyle's Hotel. Moriarty went into the barrackand wakened the sergeant. He had a keen sense of his duty towards hissuperior officer. It would not have been kind or right to allow thesergeant to sleep through an event so unusual as the stopping of ahandsome motor outside the door of the Imperial Hotel. 

The car was a large one, but it carried only a single traveller. Hewas a lean, sharp-faced man, clean shaven, with very piercing hard greyeyes. He blew three blasts on the horn of his motor. Then Mr. Doylecame out of the door. He blinked irritably at the stranger. The strongsunlight affected his eyes, and the rude way in which he had beenawakened from his sleep overcame for a moment the natural instinctof the hotel keeper. All hotel keepers are civil to possible guests. Otherwise they would not succeed in their business. Mr. Doyle knew this, but he scarcely realised at first that the gentleman in the motor-carmight be a guest. His was not a tourist's hotel and he had been verysound asleep. 

"Say, " said the stranger, "are you the proprietor?"

"I am, " said Doyle. 

"Can I register?" said the motorist. 

The word was strange to Doyle, Guests at his hotel were very few. Acommercial traveller stopped a night with him occasionally, trying topush the sale of drapery goods or boots in Ballymoy. An official of aminor kind, an instructor in agriculture, or a young lady sent out tobetter the lot of domestic fowls, was stranded now and then in Ballymoyand therefore obliged to spend the night in Doyle's hotel. But suchchance strangers merely asked for rooms and food. They did not want to"register. "

"Can you what?" said Doyle. 

"Register, " said the stranger. 

"I don't know can you, " said Doyle. "This is a backward place, but youmight try them at the police barrack. The sergeant's an obliging man, and if the thing can be done I wouldn't doubt but he'd do it for you. "

"You don't kind of catch on to my meaning, " said the stranger. "What Iwant is to stop a day or two in your hotel. "

Doyle suddenly realised the possibilities of the situation. 

"You can do that of course, " he said, "and welcome. I'd be glad if wehad a gentleman like yourself every day of the week. "

He turned as he spoke and shouted for Mary Ellen. 

"Business pretty stagnant?" said the stranger. 

"You may say that. Mary Ellen, Mary Ellen! Come here, I say. "

The stranger got out of his car. He looked up and down the empty street. 

"Guess, " he said, "since I travelled in this slumbrous old country ofyours I've seen considerable stagnation, but this licks the worst I'vestruck yet. Your town pretty well fathoms the depths. Are the folks herealive at all?"

"They are, of course. "

Doyle looked round him as he spoke. He saw a good deal that the strangermissed. Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty standing well back insidethe barrack door, were visible, dim figures in the shadow, keenly alert, surveying the stranger. Young Kerrigan, the butcher's son, crouched, half concealed, behind the body of a dead sheep which hung from a hookoutside the door of his father's shop. He too was watching. One side ofthe window blind of the Connacht Eagle office was pulled aside. ThaddeusGallagher was without doubt peering at the motor-car through a corner ofthe window. Three small boys were lurking among the packing cases whichstood outside a shop further down the street. Doyle felt justified inrepeating his statement that many of the inhabitants of Ballymoy werealive. 

"There is, " he said, "many a one that's alive enough, though I don't saybut that business might be brighter. Mary Ellen, I say, come here. "

Mary Ellen appeared at the door of the hotel. She had improved herappearance slightly by putting on an apron. But she had not found timeto wash her face. This was not her fault. Washing is a serious business. In Mary Ellen's case it would have taken a long time if it were to be inthe least effective. Doyle's call was urgent. 

"Why didn't you come when you heard me calling you?" he said. 

Mary Ellen looked at him with a gentle tolerant smile. She belonged to arace which had discovered the folly of being in a hurry about anything. She knew that Doyle was not really in a hurry, though he pretended tobe. 

"Amn't I coming?" she said. 

Then she looked at the stranger. He, being a stranger and apparentlya man of some other nation, might perhaps really be in a hurry. Suchpeople sometimes are. But his eccentricities in no way mattered toMary Ellen. The wisdom of the ages was hers. The Irish have it. Sohave eastern peoples. They will survive when the fussy races have wornthemselves out. She gave the stranger one glance of half contemptuouspity and then looked at the motorcar. 

"Now that you are here, " said Doyle severely, "will you make yourselfuseful?"

Mary Ellen stared at the motor-car. Her beautiful brown eyes opened verywide. Her mouth opened slightly and expanded in a smile. A long line ofthe black transferred from the kitchen kettle to her cheek reached fromher ear to the point of her chin. It was broken as her smile broadenedand finally part of it was lost in the hollow of a dimple whichappeared. Mary Ellen had never before seen so splendid a motor. 

"Will you stop grinning, " said Doyle, "and take the gentleman's thingsinto the house?"

"My name, " said the stranger, "is Billing, Horace P. Billing. "

"Do you hear that now?" said Doyle to Mary Ellen. 

She approached the motor-car cautiously, still smiling. Mr. Billinghanded out two bags and then a photographic camera with tripod legs, strapped together. Doyle took one of the bags. Mary Ellen took theother. Mr. Billing himself carried the camera. 

"It occurs to me, " said Mr. Billing, "that this town kind of cries outto be wakened up a bit. "

"I wouldn't say, " said Doyle, "but it might be the better of it. "

Mary Ellen turned round and looked at Mr. Billing. She felt that he waslikely, if he were really bent on waking up the town, to begin withher. It did not please her to be wakened up. She looked at Mr. Billinganxiously. She wanted to know whether he were the kind of man who wouldbe able to rouse her to unusual activity. 

"Where I come from, " said Mr. Billing, "I'm reckoned to hustle quiteconsiderable. I'd rather like to try if I could get a move on yourfolks. "'

"You can try, " said Doyle. "I'd be glad if you'd try, for the placewants it. "

No harm could possibly come of the effort; and it was likely to occupyMr. Billing for several days. The prospect was gratifying to Doyle. A guest who travelled in a very large motor-car might be made to payheavily for his rooms and his meals. 

Five small boys came out of different houses up and down the street. When Mr. Billing, Doyle and Mary Ellen entered the hotel the boysdrifted together towards the motor-car. They walked all round it. Theypeered cautiously into it. The boldest of them prodded the tyres withhis fingers. The window of the office of the Connacht Eagle was opened, and Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher looked out Young Kerrigan emerged from theshelter of the body of the dead sheep and stood outside the shop. His father joined him. Both of them stared at the motor-car. SergeantColgan, followed by Constable Moriarty, stepped out of the policebarrack and stalked majestically across the street. The sergeant frownedheavily at the small boys. 

"Be off out of that, every one of yez, " he said. 

The small boys retreated at once. The law, in spite of all that is saidto the contrary, is greatly respected in the west of Ireland. SergeantColgan would have made it respected anywhere. His appearance was farmore impressive than that of any judge in his robes of office. ConstableMoriarty, who was more than six feet high, was impressive too. 

"That's a fine car, " said the sergeant. 

"It is, " said Moriarty, "as fine a one as ever I seen. "

"The man that owns it will be a high up man, " said the sergeant. 

"He will, " said Moriarty. 

The sergeant looked into the car. He gazed at the steering-wheel withinterest. He glanced intelligently at the levers. His eyes restedfinally on a speedometer. 

"The like of that, " he said, pointing it out to Moriarty, "is what Inever seen before. "

"I've heard of them, " said Moriarty. 

"There's a clock along with it, " said the sergeant. 

"The man that owns it, " said Moriarty, "must have a power of money. "

CHAPTER II

Doyle came out of the hotel. He joined the sergeant and Moriarty at themotor-car. 

"Good-morning, sergeant, " he said. "It's a fine day, thanks be to God. The people will only have themselves to thank if they don't get theirhay saved this weather. "

"What I'm after saying to Constable Moriarty, " said the sergeant, "isthat that's a fine car. "

"You may say that, " said Doyle. 

"It'll be some high up gentleman that owns it, " said the sergeant. 

He paused. It was plainly the duty of Doyle to give some informationabout his guest. But Doyle remained silent. 

"He'll have a power of money, whoever he is, " said Moriarty. 

He and the sergeant looked at Doyle and waited. Doyle still remainedsilent. The door of the office of the Connacht Eagle opened and ThaddeusGallagher shambled along the street. He was a tall, grizzled man, exceedingly lean and ill-shaven. His clothes, which were shabby, hunground him in desponding folds. His appearance would have led a strangerto suppose that the Connacht Eagle was not a paying property. He greetedSergeant Colgan and Moriarty with friendly warmth. When he had nothingelse to write leading articles about he usually denounced the police, accusing them of various crimes, from the simple swearing away of theliberties of innocent men to the debauching of the morals of the youngwomen of Ballymoy. But this civic zeal did not prevent his being onperfectly friendly terms with the members of the force. Nor did hisstrong writing rouse any feeling of resentment in the mind of thesergeant. He and Moriarty welcomed the editor warmly and invited him toinspect the car. 

Thaddeus Gallagher looked at the car critically. He rubbed his handalong the dusty mud guard, opened and shut one of the doors, stroked thebulb of the horn cautiously, and then turned to Doyle. 

"Is it the Lord-Lieutenant you have within in the hotel?" he asked. 

He spoke with a fine suggestion of scorn in his voice. As a prominentlocal politician Thaddeus Gallagher was obliged to be contemptuous ofLords-Lieutenant. Doyle looked offended and at first made no reply. Sergeant Colgan, acting as peacemaker, spoke in a noncommittal, butsoothing tone. 

"It might be, " he said, "it very well might be. "

"It is not then, " said Doyle. "Nor it's not the Chief Secretary. "

"If it's not, " said Gallagher, "it's some other of them fellows out ofDublin Castle. "

"It's a high up gentleman surely, " said Sergeant Colgan. 

"And one that has money to spare, " added Constable Moriarty. "It couldbe that he's one of the bosses of the Congested Districts Board. Them ones is well paid and has motors kept for them along with theirsalaries, so they tell me anyway. "

Then Mary Ellen came out of the hotel. She stood at a little distanceand smiled pleasantly at Constable Moriarty. Doyle turned on her. 

"What is it that you want now, Mary Ellen?" he said. "Why aren't youwithin attending on the gentleman?"

"Sure I am, " said Mary Ellen. 

"You are not, " said Doyle. "Don't I see you standing there grinning atConstable Moriarty?"

"He's after asking for his dinner, " said Mary Ellen. 

She referred of course to Mr. Billing. The suggestion that she wasgrinning at Moriarty was unworthy of her notice. 

"And if he is, " said Doyle, "why don't you give it to him?"

"What'll I give him?"

"Give him chops, " said Doyle. "And if there's no chops in the house—andthere may not be—run across to Kerrigan the butcher and ask him for acouple. It'll be quicker than killing a chicken; but that's what you'llhave to do in the latter end if Kerrigan has no chops. "

"It was only this morning, " said Sergeant Colgan hopefully, "thatKerrigan killed a sheep. "

Mary Ellen crossed the street towards Kerrigan's shop. ConstableMoriarty winked at her as she passed. Mary Ellen was a good girl. Shetook no notice of the wink. The sergeant, unfortunately, did. 

"Come along out of this, Constable Moriarty, " he said. "Have you noduties to perform that you can afford to be standing there all daymaking faces at Mary Ellen? Come along now if you don't want me toreport you. "

Sergeant Colgan, though Gallagher insinuated evil things about him, wasa man with a strict sense of propriety. He must have wanted very muchto hear something more about Doyle's guest, but he marched off up thestreet followed by Moriarty. Doyle and Gallagher watched them until theywere out of sight. Then Gallagher spoke again. 

"If he isn't the Lord-Lieutenant, " he said, "and if he isn't the ChiefSecretary, will you tell me who he is?"

"It's my opinion, " said Doyle, "that he's a Yank. "

"I don't know that I've much of an opinion of Yanks, " said Gallagher. "It's in my mind that the country would be better if there was fewer ofthem came back to us. What I say is this: What good are they? Whatdo they do, only upset the minds of the people, teaching them to bedisrespectful to the clergy and to use language the like of which decentpeople ought not to use?"

"It's my opinion that he is a Yank anyway, " said Doyle. 

Mary Ellen returned from Kerrigan's shop. She carried a small parcel, wrapped in newspaper. It contained two chops for Mr. Billing's dinner. 

"Mary Ellen, " said Doyle, "is it your opinion that the gentleman withinis a Yank?"

"He might be, " said Mary Ellen. 

"Go you on in then, " said Doyle, "and be cooking them chops for him. Whywould you keep him waiting for his dinner and him maybe faint with thehunger?"

"And why would you say he was a Yank?" said Gallagher. 

"Why would I say it? You'd say it yourself, Thady Gallagher if so beyou'd heard the way he was talking. 'Is there a live man in the place atall?' says he, meaning Ballymoy. 'It's waking up you want. ' says he. "

"Did he? The devil take him, " said Gallagher. 

"'And I've a good mind to try and wake you up myself, ' said he. 'I'mreckoned middling good at waking people up where I come from, ' says he. "

"Let him try, " said Gallagher. "Let him try if it pleases him. We'llteach him. "

Gallagher spoke with an impressive display of truculent self-confidence. He had at the moment no doubt whatever that he could subdue Mr. Billingor any other insolent American. His opportunity came almost at once. Mr. Billing appeared at the door of the hotel. He looked extraordinarilycool and competent. He also looked rather severe. His forehead waspuckered to a frown. It seemed that he was slightly annoyed aboutsomething. Gallagher feared that his last remark might have beenoverheard. He shrank back a little, putting Doyle between him and Mr. Billing. 

"Say, " said Mr. Billing, "is there any way of getting a move on thathired girl of yours? It'll be time for breakfast to-morrow morningbefore she brings my lunch if some one doesn't hustle her a bit. "

"Mary Ellen, " shouted Doyle. "Mary Ellen, will you hurry up now and cookthe gentleman's dinner?" Then he sank his voice. "She's frying the chopsthis minute, " he said. "If you was to stand at the kitchen door you'dhear them in the pan. "

Thaddeus Gallagher, reassured and confident that Mr. Billing had notoverheard his threat, stepped forward and stood bowing, his hat in hishands. Wealthy Americans may be objectionable, but they are rare in thewest of Ireland. Gallagher felt that he would like to know Mr. Billing. Doyle introduced him. 

"This is Mr. Gallagher, " he said. "Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, J. P. "

Mr. Billing bowed courteously and shook hands with Mr. Gallagher. 

"Proud to meet you, sir, " he said. "Proud to meet any prominent citizenof this section. "

"Mr. Thady Gallagher, " said Doyle, "is the proprietor of the ConnachtEagle, our principal newspaper. "

The Connacht Eagle was, in fact, the only newspaper in Ballymoy. Itwas the only newspaper published within a radius of forty miles fromBallymoy. 

It could therefore be quite truthfully called the principal one. Mr. Billing shook Thady Gallagher's hand again. 

"I'm a newspaper man myself, " he said. "I control two-thirds of thepress in the state where I belong. "

Thady Gallagher seemed greatly impressed by this statement. Doyle feltmore than ever that his new guest was a man who ought to be treated withall possible consideration. 

"It could be, " he said, "that them chops would be ready for you now, andif you'll tell the girl what it is you'd like to drink——"

"When I've finished my lunch, " said Mr. Billing, "I'd like to take astroll round this section. There are some things I want to see. PerhapsMr. Gallagher will come with me, if he can spare the time. "

"Thady Gallagher will be pleased, " said Doyle. "And as for sparing thetime, he has plenty of that. You'll go with the gentleman, won't you, Thady?"

"I will, of course, " said Gallagher. 

"And there's no man knows the neighbourhood better, " said Doyle. "Thereisn't one in it, man, woman, or child, that he isn't acquainted with, and anything there might be to tell about their fathers or mothersbefore them, Thady Gallagher is well fit to tell it to you. ". 

"What I'd like to be shown first, " said Mr. Billing, "is the statue tothe memory of General John Regan. "

Doyle looked at Gallagher doubtfully. Gallagher edged away a little. Heseemed inclined to take shelter again behind Doyle. 

"The statue?" said Doyle. 

"Statue or other memorial, " said Mr. Billing. 

"With regard to the statue——" said Doyle slowly. 

Then he turned round and caught Gallagher by the arm. 

"Speak up, Thady Gallagher, " he said, "and tell the gentleman about thestatue. "

"With reference to the statue——" said Gallagher. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Billing encouragingly, "the statue to General JohnRegan. "

"With reference to the statue of the deceased general, " said Gallagher. 

"What he's wanting to say, " said Doyle, "is that at the present timethere's no statue to the General, not in Ballymoy, anyway. "

"You surprise me some, " said Mr. Billing. 

"It's what there ought to be, " said Doyle, "and that's a fact. "

"Is Ballymoy such a nursery of heroes, " said Mr. Billing, "that youcan afford to neglect the memory of the great General, the patriotstatesman, the deliverer of Bolivia?"

"Speak up, Thady, " said Doyle, "and tell the gentleman why there's nostatue to the General in Ballymoy. "

Gallagher cleared his throat and began to speak. At first his words cameto him slowly; but as he warmed to his subject he became fluent and eveneloquent. 

"It's on account of the way we find ourselves situated in this countryat the present time, " he said. "It's not the hearts of the people that'sat fault. There isn't one, not the poorest man among us, that wouldn'tbe willing to do honour to the memory of the great men of the past thatdied on the scaffold in defence of the liberty of the people. It's thecursed system of Castle Government and the tyranny of the landlords, and the way the people is driven off their farms by the rack-rentingflunkeys of the rent office. How is the country to prosper, and howis statues to be erected to them that deserve statues, so long as thepeople isn't able to call their souls their own? But, glory be to God, it won't be so for long! We have Home Rule as good as got, and when wehave it——"

Gallagher might have gone on speaking for a long time. He was a man oftried and practised eloquence. He had arrived without much effort athis favourite subject. Fragments of old speeches, glowing periods, oft-repeated perorations thronged confusedly on his memory. Mr. Billingseemed to be listening with sympathy and admiration. It might be a longtime before such a favourable opportunity for making a speech came toGallagher again. Unfortunately he was interrupted. Mary Ellen had come, unperceived, out of the hotel. She was at Mr. Billing's elbow just whenGallagher reached his prophecy about Home Rule. She spoke without theslightest regard for the orator's feelings. 

"The chops is fried, " she said. 

Doyle had often heard his friend make speeches before. He had no wish tobe subjected to unnecessary oratory on a very hot day. He supported MaryEllen's appeal. 

"It would be as well for you, " he said, "to go and eat them, the waythey won't be getting cold on you. "

Mr. Billing saw the wisdom of this advice at once. He turned to go intothe hotel. But he evidently wanted to hear more of Thady Gallagher'sspeech. 

"When I've finished my lunch, " he said, "I shall look forward to along talk with Mr. Gallagher. I want to gather together all the localtraditions which survive about the boyhood of the great General. I'mwriting his biography, gentlemen. I need say no more. "

"Mary Ellen, " said Doyle, "whatever the gentleman fancies in the way ofa drink, will you see that he gets it?"

Mary Ellen, smiling pleasantly, walked in front of Mr. Billing andconducted him to the small ill-lighted room which Doyle called theCommercial Room of his hotel. There, on a very dirty table cloth, werea knife and fork, a plate which held two chops with a quantity of greaseround them, and a dish with five pallid potatoes in it. The meal was notappetising. On a very hot day it was almost repulsive. But Mr. Billingwas either really hungry or he was a man of unusual determination. Hesat down to his chops with a smile. 

"I guess, " he said, "that whisky is the drink you're most likely to havein this hotel?"

"There's porter, " said Mary Ellen, "and there's minerals, and there'sginger cordial. "

"If I'm here for a week, " said Mr. Billing, "I'll put you wise in thematter of making cocktails. A Saratoga cocktail is a drink——"

"Is it whisky I'll bring you now?" said Mary Ellen. 

She was a girl of sense and wisdom. She was no more inclined to listento Mr. Billing's panegyric of the Saratoga cocktail than to ThadyGallagher's patriotic denunciation of the flunkeys of the rent office. Without waiting for an answer she went away and brought Mr. Billing theusual quantity of Irish whisky in the bottom of a tumbler with a bottleof soda water. 

Doyle and Thady Gallagher, left alone in the street, stared at eachother in silence. It was Doyle who spoke first:

"What you want, Thady, " he said, "is a drop of something to drink, torevive the courage in you. "

"What sort of a fellow is that at all?" said Thady hoarsely. 

"A pint of porter, now, " said Doyle, "or a drop of spirits. You want itthis minute, and you'll want it more before, you're through with the jobthat you have on hand. "

He led the way into the bar and provided Thady with a satisfyingdraught. Thady emptied the tumbler without drawing breath. Then he tookhis pipe from his pocket and lit it. 

"Mr. Doyle, " he said, "you're a man I've a liking for and always had. What's more, you're a man I respect, and it isn't everyone that I wouldsay that to. "

"The same to you, " said Doyle, "and may you live long to enjoy it. Willyou have another drop?"

"I don't mind if I do, " said Thady. 

Doyle filled up the empty tumbler. As he did so Gallagher spoke withserious deliberation. 

"Seeing that you're a man I've every confidence in, I'd be glad if you'dtell me this. Who was General John Regan? For I never heard tell ofhim. "

"It'll be better for you, Thady, to know something about him be the samemore or less, before the gentleman within has finished his dinner. He'llbe asking questions of you the whole of the rest of the day. "

"Let him ask. "

"And you'll have to be answering him, for he'll not rest contentedwithout you do. "

"There's no Regans here, " said Gallagher, "and what's more there neverwas. "

"There's no statue anyway, " said Doyle, "nor there won't be. "

"I don't know that there'd be any harm in a statue, " said Gallagher. "What has me bothered is who the General was. "

"There'll be no statue, " said Doyle. "It's all very well to be talking, but the rates is too high already without an extra penny in the poundfor a statue that nobody wants. "

"I wouldn't be in favour of a statue myself, " said Gallagher, "unless, of course, the gentleman was to pay for it himself, and he might. "

"Of course if he was to pay for it, it would be different. By the lookof the motor-car he came in I'd say he'd plenty of money. "

The idea that Mr. Billing could pay for a statue was a pleasant one, and it was always possible that he might do so. He appeared to be veryanxious that there should be a statue. 

"There's some men, " said Doyle hopefully, "that has no sense in the waythey spend what money they've got. "

Mr. Gallagher admitted with a sigh that there are such men. He himselfhad no money, or very little. If, as he hoped, he succeeded in becominga Member of Parliament, he would have money, large quantities of it, afull £400 a year. He would have more sense than to spend any of itin erecting statues. Doyle, on the other hand, had money. He lentit freely, at a high rate of interest, to the other inhabitants ofBallymoy. This was his idea of the proper use of money. To spend iton works of public utility or sentimental value, struck him as veryfoolish. 

"I'd be glad, all the same, " said Gallagher, "if I knew who the Generalwas that he's talking about. "

"It could be, " said Doyle hopefully, "that he was one of them ones thatfought against the Government at the time of Wolfe Tone. "

"He might, of course. But the gentleman was saying something aboutBolivia. "

"Where's that at all?" said Doyle. 

Thady Gallagher did not know. Editors of newspapers are supposed to knoweverything and have succeeded in impressing the public with the ideathat they do, but there are probably a few things about which even theablest editor has to refer to encyclopedias; and Gallagher was not byany means at the top of his profession. The Connacht Eagle was indeed apaper which exercised a very great influence on the minds of thosewho read it, more influence, perhaps, than even The Times has on itssubscribers. For the readers of Gallagher's leading articles and columnsof news were still in that primitive stage of culture in which everystatement made in print is accepted as certainly true, whereas thesubscribers to The Times have been educated into an unworthy kindof scepticism. Also the readers of the Connacht Eagle read little ornothing else, while those who read The Times usually glance at one ortwo other papers as well, and even waste their time and unsettle theirminds by dipping into books. Thus, in spite of the fact that The Timesappears every day, and the Connacht Eagle only once a week, it is likelythat the Irish paper exercises more real influence than the Englishone—produces, that is to say, more definite effect upon the opinionsof men who have votes. The editor of The Times would perhaps scarcelyrecognise Thady Gallagher as a fellow journalist. He may know—wouldprobably in any case be ashamed to admit that he did not know—whereBolivia is. Thady Gallagher did not know, and was prepared to confesshis ignorance in private to his friend. Yet Gallagher was in reality themore important man of the two. 

"I know as much about Bolivia, " he said, "as I do about the General, andthat's nothing at all. "

"I'm glad it's you and not me, " said Doyle, "that he took the fancy togo out walking with. "

"I suppose now, " said Gallagher, "that you wouldn't come along with us. "

"I will not, " said Doyle, "so you may make your mind easy about that. "

"I don't see what harm it would do you. "

"I've things to look after, " said Doyle, "and anyway I don't fancyspending my time talking about a dead General that nobody ever heardof. "

"It's what I feel myself, " said Gallagher. 

"You may feel it, " said Doyle, "but you'll have to go with him. It wasyou he asked and not me. "

CHAPTER III

Dr. Lucius O'Grady is the only medical man in Ballymoy. Whatevermoney there is to be won by the practice of the art of healing in theneighbourhood, Dr. O'Grady wins and has all to himself. Unfortunately itis not nearly sufficient for his needs. He is not married and so cannotplead a wife and family as excuses for getting into debt. But he is aman of imaginative mind with an optimistic outlook upon life. Men ofthis kind hardly ever live within their incomes, however large theirincomes are; and Dr. O'Grady's was really small. The dullard does notwant things which the man of lively imagination feels that he must have. The sour man of gloomy disposition is forever haunted by the possibilityof misfortune. He hoards whatever pittance he may earn. Dr. O'Grady hadgood spirits and a delightful confidence in life. He spent all, and morethan all he had, feeling sure that the near future held some great goodfortune for him—a deadly epidemic perhaps, which would send all thepeople of Ballymoy flocking to his surgery, or a post under the newInsurance Act The very qualities of mind which made him improvidentmade him also immensely popular. Everybody liked him. Even his creditorsfound it hard to speak harshly to him. He owed money to Doyle; butDoyle, though as keen as any man living on getting what was due to him, refrained from hurrying Dr. O'Grady over much. He grumbled a great deal, but he allowed the account in the shop attached to the hotel to run on. He even advanced sums of hard cash when some distant creditor, a Dublintailor, for instance, who did not appreciate the doctor's personalcharm, became importunate. Between what was due in the shop for tea, sugar, whisky, tobacco, and other necessaries, and the money actuallylent, Dr. O'Grady owed Doyle rather more than £60. He owed Gallaghermore than £1, being five years' subscription to the Connacht Eagle. Heowed a substantial sum to Kerrigan, the butcher. He owed something toevery other shopkeeper in Ballymoy. The only people to whom he did notowe money were Major Kent, Mr. Gregg, the District Inspector of Police, and Mr. Ford, the stipendiary magistrate. No one could have owed moneyto Mr. Ford because he was a hard and suspicious man who never lentanything. Nobody could have borrowed from Mr. Gregg, because Mr. Gregg, who had just got married, had no money to lend. Major Kent had a littlemoney and would have lent it to Dr. O'Grady, would, in fact, have givenit to him without any hope of ever getting it back again, but thedoctor refused to borrow from him. He had a conscientious objection tovictimising his personal friends. Doyle, so he explained, lived verylargely by lending money, and therefore offered himself as fair game tothe impecunious borrower. The shopkeepers throve on a system of credit. They were fair game too. Major Kent was in a different case. To borrowfrom him was to take a mean advantage of the good nature of a simple, unprofessional man. 

Major Kent and Dr. O'Grady walked into Ballymoy together at abouthalf past two on the day of Mr. Billing's arrival. They had lunched atPortsmouth Lodge, the Major's house. Dr. O'Grady had given his opinionof a new filly which the Major had bought a few days before. It wasa very unfavourable opinion, and the Major, who had the greatestconfidence in the doctor's judgment, was duly depressed. 

"If I were you, Major, " said the doctor, "I'd sell that one at once. She's no good. "

"I'd sell her fast enough, " said the Major gloomily, "if I could find abuyer. "

"It was £30 you gave for her in the fair?" said the doctor. 

"It was; and if you're right about her she's not worth the half of it. She's not worth £12. "

"I happen to know that fellow Geraghty, " said the doctor. "The man whostuck you with her. He's a patient of mine. I pulled him through hislast attack of d. T. 's so I know all there is to know about him. He'dstick an archangel. If he happened to be selling him a pair of wings itwould turn out afterwards that the feathers were dropping out. "

"If you know him, " said the Major, "you know a blackguard. "

"After sticking you with the filly, " said the doctor, "he spent theevening drinking in the hotel. "

"He would. "

"And the more he drank the bigger the price was that he said he got fromyou. When Doyle turned him out in the end he was saying that he hadyour cheque for £60 in his pocket. I don't suppose Doyle believed that. Nobody would. But he probably thinks you gave £40 or £45. "

"All I gave was £30. But I don't see that it matters what Doylebelieves. "

"It does matter, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If Doyle believes you gave £40 forthe filly, and if you were to offer her to him for £35 he'd think he wasgetting a bargain and he'd jump at it. Doyle's just the kind of fool whothinks he knows all about horses and so he's quite an easy man to stick. Come on now, and we'll try. "

Major Kent was in all ordinary affairs of life a strictly honourableman. But horses are not ordinary affairs. It is on record that a bishop, an Irishman and therefore intensely religious, once sold a thoroughlyunsound horse to an archdeacon for a large price. The archdeacon had ahigh opinion of the bishop beforehand, regarding him as a saintly manof childlike simplicity. He had a much higher opinion of him after heunderstood the failings of the animal he had bought. He then respectedthe bishop for his shrewdness. Horse-dealing is a thing apart from allother buying and selling. Honesty, in the common sense of the word, does not enter into it. Therefore, Major Kent was quite ready to defraudDoyle if he could. He and Dr. O'Grady walked into Ballymoy together forthe purpose. 

They reached the corner of the market square and caught sight ofMr. Billing's large motor-car standing outside the hotel. Doyle andGallagher, who had stopped drinking, were standing near it. 

"If Doyle's bought that motor, " said the Major, "he won't look at thefilly. "

"He hasn't, " said the doctor. "What would he do with the motor if he hadit? All the same it's queer. I don't know what it's doing there. Nobodywith money enough to own a car like that could possibly be stopping atDoyle's Hotel. Come along and let's find out about it. "

They hurried across the square and greeted Doyle and Gallagher. 

"Whose is the big motor?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"It belongs to an American gentleman, " said Doyle, "who's within in thehotel. We're waiting for him this minute. He's getting his camera, andwhen he has it got he's going round with Thady Gallagher to photographthe town. "

Gallagher took Major Kent by the arm and drew him apart. 

"Major, " he said, "can you tell me who was General John Regan?"

"Never heard of him, " said the Major, "but if he owns that car he mustbe a middling well-off man. "

"Look here, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you know that filly the Majorbought at the fair. "

"I've heard of her, " said Doyle. 

"Well, as it happens, " said Dr. O'Grady, "she turns out to be a bit toogood for what he wants. His idea was to get something to do a bit ofcarting, and it turns out that this one is—well, she has breeding. Now, look here, Doyle———"

He led Doyle apart just out of earshot of the Major and Gallagher. 

"I owe you a trifle, don't I, Doyle?"

"As near as I can go to it without looking at my books, " said Doyle, "you owe me £60, and I'd be thankful if so be that it's quite convenientto you——"

"It isn't a bit convenient, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but I quite admit thatI owe the money. Now what I suggest is this. I've persuaded the Majorto let you have that filly cheap, dirt cheap. It will be found money toyou, Doyle, if you get her at the price the Major's going to name, and you may be able to knock a pound or two off that. Under thesecircumstances and seeing that I'm putting the chance in your way—itisn't everyone that could, but I'm a friend of the Major's and he trustsme—I think you ought to stop talking about the trifle I owe you. I'msick of the subject. "

"You're not near as sick of it as I am, " said Doyle, "and I don't knowthat I want the filly. "

"You do want her, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You want anything that you canmake money out of. Hullo! Who's that?"

Mr. Billing, carrying his camera, appeared at the door of the hotel. 

"It's the American gentleman that owns the motorcar, " said Doyle. "Tellme this now, doctor. Did ever you hear of General John Regan?"

"Of course I did, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He's a well-known millionaire, just the sort of man to be touring the country in a big motor. Go youoff now and settle with the Major about the filly. I'll entertain theGeneral for you. "

"For God's sake, doctor, be careful what you say, " said Doyle in awhisper. "The General's dead this twenty years and it's a statue thereought to be to his memory. So that fellow's after saying, any way. "

"Oh, all right, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It's just the same thing. I'llmanage. You go and settle with the Major. "

He approached Mr. Billing jauntily. 

"Delighted to meet you, sir, " he said. "Delighted to welcome youto Ballymoy. You'll find it a most interesting locality. My name isO'Grady, Lucius O'Grady, M. D. "

Mr. Billing took off his hat, laid down his camera, and shook hands withthe doctor. 

"Mine is Billing, " he said. "Horace P. Billing. I come from America. Myobject in visiting Ballymoy——"

"The poor old General, of course, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We thought you'dbe sure to come sooner or later. Your uncle, wasn't he, or great uncle?I forget. "

Mr. Billing seemed surprised, very much surprised. He dropped Dr. O'Grady's hand abruptly and stared at him. Then he recovered himselfwith an effort. 

"I can't claim relationship with that great man, " he said. 

"That's a pity, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I'm his biographer, " said Mr. Billing. "I'm engaged in writing thefirst complete life of the founder of the Bolivian Republic. I have cometo Ballymoy——"

"You couldn't possibly have come to a better place. "

Dr. O'Grady was not a literary man, but he had an idea that people whowrite books seek out quiet places in which they are not likely to beover excited while engaged in their trying work. Ballymoy seemed to hima suitable place for anyone engaged in writing a biography. 

"It surprises me some, " said Mr. Billing, "to find that you've no statueerected to the memory of the General. I'd have thought——"

"The matter is under discussion, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Our Urban DistrictCouncil is alive to its duty in the matter. At the last meeting—let mesee now, was it the last meeting? Gallagher! Thady Gallagher! Come herefor a minute. "

Thady Gallagher, who had been acting as umpire in an animated wranglebetween Doyle and Major Kent, shambled across to the door of the hotelwhere Dr. O'Grady and Mr. Billing were standing. 

"Was it the last meeting of the Urban District Council, " said Dr. O'Grady, "or was it the last but one, that you were discussing theerection of a statue to General John Regan?"

He did not venture to wink as he asked the question, but Gallagher wasquite quick-witted enough to give the proper answer. 

"It was the last meeting, " he said. 

"There was a slight difference of opinion among the members, " said Dr. O'Grady, "as to the form which the memorial was to take. Some of themwanted a life-size statue in white marble. Mr. Gallagher here was morein favour of a drinking fountain. It was you who wanted the fountainwasn't it, Thady?"

"It was, " said Gallagher. 

"As a cheaper form of memorial, " said Dr. O'Grady, "so as to spare therates as far as possible. "

"That's right, " said Gallagher. 

"If you will allow me to say so, " said Mr. Billing, "the question ofexpense ought not to be allowed to stand in your way. I myself willgladly promise——"

Mr. Billing hesitated for a moment. It was not clear whether he meant topromise a handsome subscription or merely to say that he would help incollecting the necessary money. Dr. O'Grady thought it well to assume atonce that a subscription had been promised. 

"Good, " he said, "take note of that, Thady, and announce it to the UrbanDistrict Council at the next meeting. Mr. Billing will hand over hissubscription to the treasurer as soon as one is appointed. You canarrange about a proper vote of thanks being passed. "

Mr. Billing seemed quite pleased at this interpretation of hisunfinished sentence. He went on to make another promise. 

"And I think I may safely guarantee, " he said, "on behalf of the peopleof Bolivia——they can never forget——"

"They oughtn't to, " said the doctor. "After all he did more for themthan he ever did for us. "

"He was born here, " said Mr. Billing, "and that's something to be proudof. "

"And we are proud of it. Thady Gallagher is having an article in hispaper next week saying how much we appreciate the dear old General. Aren't you, Thady?"

"I am, of course, " said Gallagher. 

Then, lest he should be committed any further, Gallagher slipped awayand joined Major Kent and Doyle. They were standing together near themotorcar in high debate as to whether the price of the filly was tobe £30 or £34. The Major had abated one pound of the price he asked atfirst. Doyle had, so far, resisted every effort to induce him to makean advance upon his original offer. They were both enjoying themselvesgreatly. But Gallagher interrupted them. 

"The doctor knows all about him, " he said, "thanks be to God he's——"

"She's a filly, " said Doyle, "and I know as much about her as the doctordoes. "

He had for the moment forgotten his American guest, and was thinkingonly of the animal which Major Kent was trying to sell him. 

"It's the General I'm talking about, " said Gallagher in an aggrievedtone, "and the doctor says there's to be an article on the paper abouthim next week. But if there is the doctor may write it himself. It'll beeasy for him seeing he knows who the General was. "

"He does not know any more than the rest of us, " said Doyle. "Didn't hesay a minute ago he was a well-known millionaire?"

"He knows now, anyway, " said Gallagher, "and what's more he says thatthe Urban District Council has been talking about erecting a statue tohim. "

"Erecting a statue to who?" said the Major. 

"To General John Regan, of course, " said Gallagher. 

"But sure there was no such talk, " said Doyle, "not that I heard of, anyway. "

"There was not, " said Gallagher, "but there will be now; and there mighthave been. There's no denying that there might have been. "

"Doyle, " said the Major anxiously. "We must finish settling the price ofthe filly later on. I'm nervous, I'm confoundedly nervous about what thedoctor may be doing. You never know what wild idea he may take into hishead, or what he may let us all in for. "

"He's all right, " said Gallagher. "Don't I tell you he's arranging withthe American gentleman?"

"He may be getting us all into some mess or other. You never know whatthe doctor will be at. He's so infernally imaginative. "

Mr. Billing and Dr. O'Grady had left the door of the hotel. They werestanding together in the middle of the square almost opposite the policebarrack. Major Kent hurried towards them. Doyle and Gallagher followedhim slowly. 

"What's this talk about a statue?" said Doyle. "Didn't I tell you beforethat I'd agree to no statue? Isn't the rates high enough already withoutthat? And don't I have to pay more of them than any other man in thetown?"

"There'll be no addition to the rates, " said Gallagher. "The way thedoctor was fixing it up it'll be the American gentleman that'll payfor the statue. He's just after saying he will, and the Urban DistrictCouncil is to pass a vote of thanks to him, which is what they'll beglad to do, and I'll draw it up myself. "

"Of course, " said Doyle, slightly mollified, "if he pays the cost of itthere'll be no objection to the statue. But are you sure now that he'sfit? Statues cost a deal. "

"Look at the motor-car he came in, " said Gallagher. 

The motor seemed conclusive evidence. It was a very splendid vehicle. Doyle hurried forward. A stranger who proposed to spend large sums ofmoney in the town deserved to be treated with every kind of politenessand respect. A statue still struck Doyle as an exceedingly uselessthing; but he was not without hope that Mr. Billing might be persuadedto give his money, if he really wanted to give money, to some moresensible object. 

Dr. O'Grady introduced Major Kent to Mr. Billing. 

"Our principal resident gentleman, " he said, "a J. P. And a strongUnionist. Gallagher, of course, is a Home Ruler. But these littlepolitical differences of opinion don't really matter. They're bothequally keen on doing their duty to the memory of the great General. "

"What's that?" said the Major. "What General are you talking about?"

"General John Regan, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Who? What?" said the Major. 

"Don't give yourself away now, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady, in a whisper. "Don't let Mr. Billing find out that you've never heard of the General. You ought to have heard of him. The Major, " he said aloud, "isn't aswell up in the General's history as he might be. He hasn't studied thedetails of his campaigns; but he quite agrees with the rest of us thatthere ought to be a statue to his memory. "

"Dr. O'Grady has just informed me, " said Mr. Billing, "that the centreof this square is the site that has been selected by your Urban DistrictCouncil. "

"The very spot we're standing on at the present moment, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The Major has promised £5, which shows how keen he is on theproject. Don't say you haven't, Major. We all know that you're a modestman, doing good by stealth and blushing to find it known. But apublic subscription can't be kept secret. Sooner or later the list ofsubscribers will have to be published. Doyle, " he looked round as hespoke and saw Doyle and Gallagher standing near him. "Doyle has promisedanother £5. He ought to be giving more, and I daresay he will in theend. He's a much richer man than the Major, though he doesn't lookit. Gallagher is good for another pound. It doesn't sound much froma newspaper editor, but it's as much as he can afford. Halfthe advertisements in his paper aren't paid for at all. FatherMcCormack—he's the parish priest, and we haven't asked him yet, buthe'll put down his name for £10 at least. He always supports every kindof good work liberally. "

"Gentlemen, " said Mr. Billing, "you may put me down for five hundreddollars. "

Doyle and Gallagher drew pieces of paper and pencils from their pockets. They did sums rapidly, Doyle on the back of an old envelope, Gallagheron a sheet of paper already covered with shorthand notes. Dr. O'Gradyworked his sum in his head. He arrived at his answer first. 

"A hundred pounds!" he said. "A generous subscription!"

"It's more than a hundred, " said Doyle. "What do you make it, Thady?"

"Counting 4s. 2d. To the dollar, " said Gallagher, "it comes to———"

"There's a halfpenny along with that, " said Doyle, "as often as not. "

"Anyway, " said Gallagher, "it won't be less than £104 3s. 4d. "

"The Urban District Council, " said Doyle, "will take a delight inpassing that vote of thanks to Mr. Billing at its next meeting, andit'll be a good strong vote, won't it, Thady?"

"As strong as ever any one that was passed about the landlords, " saidGallagher, "only different, of course, mighty different. "

"Look here, O'Grady, " said Major Kent. "What do you mean by sayingthat I'm going to subscribe £5? Who is this General you're all talkingabout?"

"Do shut up, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Everything's all right if you'llonly keep quiet. As you've got a camera with you, Mr. Billing, " he wenton, "you might like to take a photograph of that house opposite you. Itwas there that the great General——"

"Glory be to God, " said Gallagher, "it's the police barrack!"

"The birthplace of the great General?" said Mr. Billing, taking off hishat. 

"Not exactly, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Thady Gallagher will show you hisbirthplace this afternoon. This is the house in which he spent his earlyyouth, up to the age of eleven years. "

"Excuse me, " said Mr. Billing. "I'll just get my camera. A view of thathouse will be most interesting. I certainly ought to have it for mybiography. "

He crossed the road to the hotel and picked up his camera. He carried itto the middle of the square and set up the tripod legs. Then he screwedthe camera into its place. 

"O'Grady, " said Major Kent, angrily. "I don't want to make a publicexposure of you before a total stranger, but if you don't stop trying tomake fools of us all———"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Major, " said the doctor. "I'mnot making a fool of anyone. I'm helping to persuade Mr. Billing toerect a statue in this town. You can't deny that a statue would be animprovement to the place. "

"A statue!" said the Major. "Who to?"

"Good Heavens!" said Dr. O'Grady, "haven't you grasped that yet? ToGeneral John Regan. "

Mr. Billing had his head under a black cloth. He was screwing thelens of his camera backwards and forwards and appeared to be entirelyabsorbed in his photography. 

"Tell me now, doctor, " said Doyle, "before we go further into thematter—— Mind you, I'm not saying a word against what you're doing, butI'd be glad to know who was General John Regan. "

"If I'm to show the American gentleman the birthplace of the General, "said Gallagher, "I'll need to know where it is. Will you tell me thisnow, doctor, where was the General born?"

"I haven't time, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to give you all elementary lectureson modern history; and I certainly haven't the temper to spend all dayhammering into your heads simple facts which——"

"Facts!" said the Major. 

"Go home, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You've no tact, and in an affair ofthis kind where the highest kind of diplomacy is necessary, you're notonly useless, you're actually dangerous. Now, Doyle, do you or do younot want to have the handling of that American gentleman's £100? You do, of course. Very well then. Leave the matter in my hands and don't annoyme by asking frivolous questions. Thady, the birthplace of the Generalis one of those ruined cottages—it doesn't in the least matter which—onthe grass farm where Doyle has his cattle ever since you and your Leagueprevented anyone else taking the place. You ought to have known thatwithout bothering me. Good Heavens! Here's the police sergeant coming toask questions now. "

Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty were approaching at a rapid walk. 

"Begging your pardon, doctor, " said the sergeant, "but is that a camerathat the gentleman has, and is he thinking of taking a picture of thebarrack?"

"He is, " said the doctor, "but he's not photographing it as a barrackat all. He's doing it in an entirely different spirit. So there's nonecessity for you to start any theory about his being a German spy, orto raise stupid objections. "

"I wasn't thinking of objecting, " said the sergeant. "It makes no matterto me what notion he has in his head. But what Constable Moriarty wassaying to me this minute——" he hesitated, and then added, "speak up now, Moriarty. "

"What the sergeant said to me, " said Moriarty, "as soon as ever he seenthe gentleman with the camera——"

"It wasn't me passed the remark, " said the sergeant, "but yourself. I'llnot have it put out that I was the one——"

Mr. Billing, standing bare-headed beside his camera, squeezed a yellowbulb and clicked the shutter of his lens. He turned smiling. 

"A successful photograph, I hope, gentlemen, " he said. "The people ofBolivia will be interested to see it. It will adorn the first volume ofthe General's life. "

"There!" said Dr. O'Grady to Sergeant Colgan. "That comes of notspeaking out promptly. The photograph is taken now and whatever remarkit was that you or Moriarty made will be entirely wasted. "

"It's a pity, so it is, " said the sergeant, "for what Constable Moriartywas after saying——"

"What the sergeant said, " said Moriarty, "is that he'd be glad if thegentleman would take him along with the barrack. "

"It's not often, " said the sergeant, "that we have anyone takingphotographs round in these parts, and Constable Moriarty would have beenpleased to be took on account of being able to send the photo after to ayoung lady that he is acquainted with up in Dublin. "

"There's no young lady up in Dublin, " said Moriarty sulkily. 

Dr. O'Grady was a man of quick sympathy and a kind heart. He realisedat once that both Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty wanted to havetheir photographs taken. 

"Go over to the door of the barrack, " he said, "and arrange yourselvesin such a way as to look as ornamental as possible. I'll try to get thegentleman to take another photograph. "

Mr. Billing had slipped his dark slide into his pocket, and wasunscrewing his camera from its stand. Dr. O'Grady called to him. 

"I'm afraid, " he said, "that you got your photograph wrong. "

"Mistake about the house, " said Mr. Billing. "Well, it can't be helped. Which is the right one?"

"Not exactly that, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You've got the proper house, butthe Major has just reminded me——"

"I did not, " said Major Kent. 

"Well, if it wasn't you it was Thady. Thady Gallagher has just remindedme that the top storey wasn't built when the General lived there. TheGovernment added it afterwards when the place was bought for a policebarrack. What you ought to do if you want to get the thing absolutelyright is to take another photograph and make sure that the top storeydoesn't come into it. "

"I'm greatly obliged to you, " said Mr. Billing. "I'll expose a secondplate. "

He arranged his camera again. Sergeant Colgan and Moriarty settledthemselves in stiff attitudes, one on each side of the barrack door. 

"Am I to take the two policemen as well?" said Mr. Billing, looking outfrom beneath his black cloth. 

"You may as well, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It will interest the Boliviansto see how this country is overrun with what Thady Gallagher calls thearmed forces of an alien power. "

"What I say is this, " said Thady Gallagher, grasping at his opportunity, "so long as the people of this country is kept in subjection and thecursed system of landlordism is supported——"

"Look here, O'Grady, " said Major Kent, angrily, "I can't be expected tostand this. "

"It's all right, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It's only poor old Thady. You know jolly well he doesn't mean a word of it. "

"As long as the sacredness of our homes is invaded, " said Gallagher, "and the virtues of our families corrupted by the overfed minions of thelandlord class——"

"Oh, do shut up, Thady, " said the doctor. "We all know that stuff offby heart, and you must try to recollect that the Major's a Unionist. Hecan't be expected to listen to you peaceably; and if we don't run thisstatue business on strictly non-political lines we'll never be able tocarry it through. "

"Whisht now, Thady, whisht, " said Doyle soothingly; "sure the sergeantis doing you no harm. "

Mr. Billing clicked his shutter again. Sergeant Colgan and ConstableMoriarty relapsed from their strained attitudes and breathed freely. 

"Got the lower storey all right?" said Dr. O'Grady. "Good. I daresay nowyou'd like to toddle around with Thady Gallagher and see the General'sbirthplace. I'm sorry I can't go with you myself, but I happen to berather busy. There are two old women with rheumatism expecting bottlesfrom me in the course of the afternoon. "

"I'll fold up the camera, " said Mr. Billing, "and start at once. "

"Doctor, " said Gallagher anxiously, "what'll I do when he starts askingme questions about the General?"

"Answer him, of course, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"How can I, when I never heard tell of the General till to-day. For thelove of God, doctor dear, will you tell me who he was?"

"Thady, " said the doctor, "I'm ashamed of you. Aren't you a politician?You are, and well you know it. Aren't you a newspaper editor? Youare, there's no use denying it. Don't you spend your whole life eithertalking or writing on subjects that you know nothing about? You do. Andwhat on earth's the use of your pretending now that you can't answer afew simple questions about General John Regan? There now, he's got hiscamera folded up and he's waiting for you. Be off at once. "

CHAPTER IV

Motor-cars are even yet far from common in the west of Ireland. They arenot, for instance, used in elections as they are in England. Therevery seldom are elections in the west of Ireland; but even if theseentertainments were, as frequent as elsewhere motor-cars would not beused in them. This is partly because the Irish voter is recognisedas incorruptible, not the kind of man who would allow his vote to beinfluenced by a ride in an unaccustomed vehicle; partly because thewest of Ireland candidate for Parliament is not rich enough to keep amotor-car himself, and has no friends or supporters who could lend himanything more expensive than a horse. Therefore motor drives are anunknown luxury to most Connacht men. Thady Gallagher, though he wasa newspaper editor, had never travelled even in the side car of amotor-cycle. When Mr. Billing made it clear that he meant to go to theGeneral's birth-place in his large car everybody felt slightly enviousof Gallagher, and Doyle wished that he had not refused to join theexpedition. Gallagher himself was not elated by his good fortune. He wasembarrassed and depressed. He cast an appealing glance at Doyle. 

"What am I to do, at all?" he said. "What am I to say to him when——?"

"If you've any sense, " said Doyle, "you'll take a good long drive nowyou have the chance. He doesn't know the way. What's to hinder you fromtaking him round every road within ten miles of the town?"

But the prospect did not cheer Gallagher. He tried to grasp Dr. O'Grady's arm as he passed him. But the doctor shook him offimpatiently. He even attempted an appeal to Major Kent, quite vainly. The Major was still smarting under the rhetorical denunciation oflandlords. He would not at that moment have gone a step out of his wayto rescue Gallagher from drowning. 

The moment the motor-car was out of sight Major Kent and Doyle turnedhotly on Dr. O'Grady. 

"What the devil do you mean, O'Grady, " said the Major, "by talking inthis absurd way? You know perfectly well——"

Doyle spoke at the same time. 

"It's a curious thing, so it is, doctor, " he said. "It's a curious thingthat you'd be letting me in for £5 when you know the loss I'm in onaccount of you already. I'd have thought——"

Dr. O'Grady interrupted them both. 

"Suppose you agree to split the difference, " he said, "and say £32 10s. For the filly. It's a pity to see two men like you losing your tempersover a bargain. "

"It's not the bargain, " said Doyle, "that has my temper riz. It's——"

"Doyle can have the filly if he likes, " said the Major, "at £32 10s. Idon't want to go on wrangling about that. What I want to know——"

"I'll take her, " said Doyle. 

Major Kent smiled faintly. He was getting out of what threatened to bea very bad bargain with an actual gain of £2 10s. He began to recovercommand of his temper. Doyle also smiled. He believed that he was buyingfor £32 10s. An animal for which Major Kent had paid £40 three daysbefore. He felt kindly disposed towards Dr. O'Grady, who had put thechance of such a bargain in his way. 

"Now, Major, " said the doctor, "you trot along to my house while I speaka word or two to Doyle. I'll be round with you in about ten minutes, andgive you some tea. "

"But about that General?" said the Major, "I'd rather like to know——"

He still wanted to know about General John Regan. But the tone in whichhe asked for information had changed. He no longer seemed to threaten. 

"I'll explain all that to you if you'll only do as I tell you, " said Dr. O'Grady. "At present I can't because I'm going to explain it to Doyle. "

"Why can't you explain it to both of us at once?" said the Major. "Thatis to say if there is any explanation of the way you've been going on. "

"There are two explanations, " said Dr. O'Grady, "one for you and onefor Doyle. I can't give them both at once, because they're different. Ishould have thought you'd have seen that for yourself. "

"I don't see how there can be two explanations, " said the Major, "nottwo true ones. But of course they're neither of them that. "

"They're both quite true, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but they're different, of course, because you and Doyle look at everything from such differentpoints of view. Now do trot along, Major, and don't interrupt me anymore. That American may be back at any moment. I don't believe Gallagherwill be able to keep him in play for very long. "

He took Major Kent by the shoulders as he spoke and pushed him somelittle way along the street. Then he returned to Doyle. 

"Now then, Doyle, " he said, "you've done pretty well over that filly. Strictly speaking, you owe me £7 10s. But I'm not going to say a wordabout that. "

"Seeing that you owe me £60, " said Doyle, "it'll maybe be as well foryou not. "

"What I do want to talk about, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is General JohnRegan. "

"If you tell me who he was, " said Doyle, "I'll be content. "

"I don't see that it matters in the least to you who he was. Look herenow, Doyle. You're a business man, and among other things you sellwhisky. Now suppose someone was to walk into your hotel and tell you toforward ten dozen bottles of whisky—the best you had—to his aunt, and supposing that he told his aunt's name was Regan, would you goquestioning and cross-questioning every man you met as to whether therereally was an old lady called Miss Regan at the address he gave you?"

"I would not, " said Doyle. "So long as I got my money I wouldn't carewhether the fellow ever had an aunt, or what sort of a name there mightbe to her if he had. "

"Well, this is exactly the same sort of case. Here's a man who wants astatue for a dead General, and is perfectly willing to pay for it. Why should you bother your head about who the statue is supposed torepresent? £100 is £100, I suppose, even if there never was a Regan inthe world; and there have been, plenty of them. "

"I see that, " said Doyle. "I see that, now you put it to me. And I don'tdeny but there's a lot in what you say. But what I don't see is this:I'd make something out of the whisky for the gentleman's aunt, but Idon't understand how I'm to make a penny out of the statue. "

"You'll be treasurer of the fund, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and I needn't tellyou that in all these cases the treasurer—well, there might be a littlebalance in hand at the end. There often is. Nobody ever inquires aboutthose balances. If the treasurers are fools they lie in the banks andnobody ever gets any good of them. But you're not a fool, Doyle. "

"I am not; and of course, there has been balances of the kind you speakof before now. I wouldn't say but—looking at the matter in that way—andbesides there'd be a commission from the fellow that got the contractfor the statue. And with regard to the £5 that my name's down for——"

"Come now, Doyle. Don't pretend to be stupider than you are. You knowperfectly well that every public fund has to be started by somebody witha respectable looking subscription. I put it to you now as a businessman, did you ever hear of a case in which a subscription of that kindwas actually paid? It appears in the published list and it encouragesother people, but——"

"Say no more, doctor, " said Doyle. "Say no more. "

"I shall count on you then, Doyle, to help me in every way you possiblycan. It's all for your own good. And you won't be doing anybody anyharm. "

"There's just one thing more, " said Doyle. 

"Out with it. And be as quick as you can. I've still got to soothe theMajor's scruples. "

"If you don't mind my asking the question, " said Doyle, "what are yougoing to make out of it yourself?"

"That's a delicate point. I might tell you I'm going into the businessfor the fun of the thing; but you wouldn't believe that. "

"I would not, " said Doyle, winking slowly. 

"I was afraid you wouldn't. It's true, as it happens. That's justexactly why I am running this statue. It offers me a little excitementand variety. But as you won't believe it I'll have to make up some sortof a lie that you will believe. I owe you about £60, don't I?"

"You do, doctor, but I'd be the last man in Ireland to press you for themoney if——"

"Very well. If I put £20 into your pocket over this statue, in additionto the £7 10s. You're making on the filly, I'll expect you to stoptalking about what I owe you for the next six months. You see some sensein that, don't you?"

"I do. "

"And it satisfies you as a reason for my taking all the trouble that I'mgoing to take. "

"It does, of course. Why wouldn't it?"

"Very well. Believe it. But if the matter ever comes up again you'llremember, Doyle, that I offered you the truth and you wouldn't have it. I didn't attempt to impose on you with that lie until you insisted thatI should. "

Doyle grinned. He did not for a moment believe that Dr. O'Grady wasgoing to give himself a great deal of trouble in the matter of GeneralJohn Regan's statue without gaining something by it. But he admired theway in which the doctor, even when apparently cornered, succeeded inkeeping up appearances. 

"If Gallagher gets tangled up in any difficulty, " said Dr. O'Grady, ashe said good-bye to Doyle, "send him straight round to me. Don't youattempt to extricate him or you'll make matters worse. I shall be athome for the next two hours. It will take me that time at least to talksense into the Major. "

When he got back to his own house Dr. O'Grady found his friend in astate of badly repressed impatience. 

"That seems to have been a pretty long explanation which you gave toDoyle, " said the Major. "I hope mine will turn out to be a bit shorter. "

"That, " said Dr. O'Grady, "will entirely depend on yourself, Major. If you were a really intelligent man no explanation whatever would benecessary. You'd grasp the situation for yourself. If you were evenfairly intelligent a short explanation would be quite sufficient. If, as I fear, you are downright stupid I may have to spend an hour or twotalking to you. "

"I don't see the slightest necessity for that, " said the Major. "You'veonly got to give a simple answer to a perfectly plain question. Who wasGeneral John Regan? You answer that, and no further explanation will benecessary. "

"I'm afraid it will, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Even if I tell you all I knowabout the General you'll still want to heckle me and generally upset myplans. "

"No, I won't, O'Grady. I promise you I won't. Just tell me all you knowabout this General and I won't say another word. "

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I don't know anything at all about theGeneral. I never heard of him in my life until to-day. "

Major Kent gasped. Then he grew suddenly red in the face. Then hespluttered explosively. Then he burst into violent speech. 

"And what the devil do you mean, O'Grady, by ——? I'm hanged if I everheard of such——"

"There you are, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I knew you wouldn't be satisfied. I've told you all I know about the General, and so far from sayingnothing more, you begin to curse in the most frightful way. "

"That's all very well, " said the Major, "but if there's no such personas that General——"

"I didn't say that. I said I knew nothing about him. I'm a well educatedman, Major, far better educated than you are. But there are thousandsand thousands of quite eminent people still alive whose names I've neverheard, and when it comes to dead people there are probably millions, scattered up and down through history books, whom I know nothing about. They may all be quite famous in their own localities and may thoroughlydeserve statues. It's not their fault that I know nothing about them. "

"But we don't any of us know anything about this General. I don't. Doyledoesn't. You don't. Why on earth should we put up a statue to him?"

"Why shouldn't we allow that American—Billing or whatever his name is—toput up a statue if he likes? He wants to. Why shouldn't he?"

"Why should he put it up here?" said the Major. "What brings him toBallymoy?"

"I expect, " said Dr. O'Grady—"mind, I don't know for certain—but Iexpect that he's come to the wrong place, mixed up Ballymoy with someother town, with the town in which Regan was really born. This Generalof his was evidently a pretty big pot in his way, and if he had beenborn in Ballymoy some of us would have heard of him. "

"In that case, " said the Major, "we ought to tell Billing of hismistake. "

"Certainly not. In the first place that would be a very unkind thing todo. Nobody likes being told of their mistakes, especially when they'reas full of bounce and self-confidence as this fellow Billing. It'snot right to be maliciously and wantonly unkind, Major, even to dumbanimals; and I can't imagine anything more cruel than to tell Billingthat he's made a mistake. In the next place, why on earth should wemiss the chance of getting a statue in Ballymoy? We haven't got oneat present, and a good statue—we'll get quite a respectable one forBilling's £100, even if we don't subscribe a penny ourselves—will be agreat ornament to the town. You may not care for statues, Major, but allreally cultivated people love them. Look at Dublin! It's a city with twouniversities in it, and the consequence is that it's simply spotted allover with statues. Look at ancient Athens, the most cultured city theworld has ever seen. The number of statues the Athenians had wouldsurprise you. Why shouldn't we have one? It'll do us all good. "

"I call it a fraud, " said the Major. "It's getting money out of thisfool of an American under false pretences. If this General of his wasn'tborn here——"

"Now do you suppose, Major, that the General himself, the original JohnRegan, cares a pin where his statue is?"

"Of course he doesn't. The one thing we do know about him is that he'sdead. Why should he care?"

"Quite so. Then there's no fraud so far as he's concerned. "

"I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about the American. "

"I'm just coming to him. Billing wants a statue to the General. He wantsit so much that he's prepared to pay £100 for it. He also believes thatthe General was born here. I think myself that he's mistaken about that;but there's no doubt he believes it. He'll be quite satisfied if we havethe statue here. If we don't he'll have to go to a lot of trouble andexpense looking up another birthplace for the General. When he finds onethe people there may not be as civil and obliging as we are. Or they mayhave as many statues as they want already. I cannot for the life of mesee that we're committing any kind of fraud when we're saving Billing alot of expense, possibly a great disappointment, and allowing him to doexactly what he wants. "

Major Kent sighed hopelessly. 

"It's no use arguing with you, " he said, "but you'll get us all intotrouble before you've done. You're absolutely certain to be found out. "

"Now you're beginning to talk sense, " said Dr. O'Grady. "There is acertain risk of being found out. I don't deny that. What we have to dois to minimise it as far as possible. We must take care not to commitourselves to any statement about the General's public career until we'vefound out all we can about him. I intend to write to Dublin to-night forevery book there is about Bolivia, which is the country he liberated. In the meanwhile we're fairly safe in working up any kind of localtradition we can think of. If that sort of thing is well done there'spractically no risk of discovery. Even if the stories don't exactly fitin with what's known about the General's later life, it doesn't matter. The things that are told about the boyhood of great men are all inventedafterwards. Nobody expects them to be true; but biographers have to putthem in to satisfy the curiosity of the public. There must be a chapterheaded 'Early Days, ' or 'Home Life, ' or something of that kind in everybiography. That's the stuff Billing expects us to supply in exchangefor the statue. At the same time men like Gallagher and Doyle areappallingly stupid, and I can't say you're exactly brilliant, Major. Anyof you may, in an unguarded moment——"

"I shan't, " said the Major, "because I'm going straight home and don'tmean to leave the house again till this whole business is over. "

"I wish that were possible, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I should be much easierin my mind if you weren't here at all. But unfortunately we must haveyou. You give an air of solid respectability to the proceedings. You inspire confidence. We can't do without you. I'll get Gregg, the District Inspector, dragged into it too, and Ford, the ResidentMagistrate, if I can. "

"You won't get him. He has too much sense. "

"I'll get his wife anyway. She loves a fuss of any kind. "

"Some of them will give you away, " said the Major. "You'll be foundout. "

"If Gallagher gets through this afternoon, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I shallfeel pretty safe. I wish I hadn't been obliged to send Gallagher offalone with Billing. Poor Thady is such an ass. But what could I do? Icouldn't go myself because I had to explain the situation to you andDoyle. I shall feel deeply thankful when Thady is safely home again. "

"By the way, " said the Major, "what was the explanation that you gave toDoyle? It was different from my one I know. I'd rather like to hear it. "

"Poor Doyle!" said Dr. O'Grady. "Do you know I felt quite sorry for himabout that filly. He probably won't find out what's wrong with her forabout a fortnight or three weeks. He'll be so busy over this GeneralJohn Regan business that he won't have time to do anything with her. Butwhen he does find out——"

"He'll not be the first man in Ireland, " said the Major, "who's been letin over a horse, and I don't pity him. "

"I do, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I pitied you, Major, when you were stuck andI helped you to get out I don't see why I shouldn't pity Doyle too. "

"How do you mean to get him out?" said the Major. "Perhaps you intend topalm off that filly on your American. "

"Not at all, " said Dr. O'Grady. "My idea is to get Doyle's money backfor him out of the statue. "

The Major thought this statement over and gradually came to suspect thatO'Grady contemplated some dishonourable use of public money. He was justbeginning to make a violent protest when the door of the room in whichthey were sitting opened, and Gallagher came in. 

"Doctor, " he said, "will you oblige me by coming over to the hotel atonce and pacifying the American gentleman?"

"I thought as much, " said Dr. O'Grady, jumping up. "You've muddledthings somehow, Thady. "

"I did the best I could, " said Gallagher, "but he wouldn't rest contentwith young Kerrigan's wife. "

"Good heavens!" said Dr. O'Grady, "what on earth have you said? YoungKerrigan hasn't got a wife. "

"Sure I know that. But what was I to do? What I said was for the best. But anyway you'd better come round to the hotel, till you see foryourself the way we're in. "

"Come along, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You'll enjoy watching us get outof this entanglement, whatever it is. "

"I'm not going with you, " said the Major. "I don't see any fun instanding still and listening to you telling lies to that American. It'snot my idea of spending a pleasant afternoon. "

"Come along, " said Dr. O'Grady, taking him by the arm. "I may want you. I can't tell yet whether I shall or not, for I don't know yet what'shappened. But I may. "

The Major hung back. 

"I'm not going, " he said. 

"If you don't, " said Dr. O'Grady in a whisper, "I'll tell Doyle aboutthe filly, all about her, and as you haven't got the money for heryet—well, you know what Doyle is. He's not the kind of man I'd care totrust very far when he finds out that—Oh, do come on. "

It may have been this threat which overcame Major Kent's reluctance. Itmay have been a natural curiosity to find out what trouble Gallagher hadgot into with Mr. Billing: It may simply have been Dr. O'Grady's forceof character which vanquished him. He allowed himself to be led away. 

CHAPTER V

 "Now Thady, " said Dr. O'Grady, "tell me exactly what happened and what the trouble is. "

"It was on account of my mentioning young Kerrigan's wife, " saidGallagher. 

"Young Kerrigan hasn't got a wife, " said the Major. 

"Better begin at the beginning, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If we knew how youarrived at whatever statement you made about young Kerrigan's wife we'dbe in a better position to judge what has to be done about it, Startoff now at the moment when you went away in the motor-car. You went toDoyle's farm, I suppose, as I told you, so as to show Mr. Billing theGeneral's birthplace. "

"In the latter end we got there, " said Gallagher, "but at the first gooff I took him along the road past the workhouse. "

"That wasn't quite the shortest route, " said Dr. O'Grady. "In fact youbegan by going in exactly the opposite direction. "

"After that we went round by Barney's Hill, " said Gallagher, "and alongthe bohireen by the side of the bog, me telling him the turns he oughtto take. "

"What on earth did you go there for, " said the Major, "if you wanted toget to Doyle's farm?"

"When we'd passed the bog, " said Gallagher, "we took a twist round, likeas we might be trying to cut across to the Dunbeg Road. "

"You seem to have gone pretty well all around the town, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I suppose you enjoyed driving about in a large motor. Was thatit?"

"It was not, " said Gallagher, "but I was in dread to take him to Doyle'sfarm not knowing what questions he might be asking about the Generalwhen we got there. I'd be glad now, doctor, if you'd tell me who theGeneral was, for it's troublesome not knowing. "

"There isn't time, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to go into long explanationssimply to satisfy your morbid curiosity. Go on with your story. Whathappened when you did get to the place? I suppose you got there in theend?"

"We did of course, " said Gallagher, "and I showed him the ruin of thelittle houseen, the same as you told me to. 'And was it there, ' sayshe, 'that the great General, the immortal founder of the liberties ofBolivia, first saw the light?' 'It was, ' says I. So he took a leap outof the motor-car and stood in front of the old house with his hat in hishand. So I told him about the way the landlords had treated the peopleof this country in times past, and the way we are meaning to serve themout as soon as we have Home Rule, which is as good as got, only for theblackguards of Orangemen up in the North. I told him——"

"I'm sure you did, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but you needn't go over all thatto us, particularly as the Major hates that kind of talk. "

"Nobody, " said Gallagher, "would want to say a word that was displeasingto the Major, who is well liked in this locality and always was. If onlythe rest of the landlords was like him, instead of——"

"Go on about the American, " said Dr. O'Grady, "did he throw stones atyou while you were making that speech about Home Rule?"

"He did not, " said Gallagher, "but he stood there looking at the houseenwith the tears rolling down the cheeks of him——"

"What?" said Dr. O'Grady, "do you mean to tell me he cried?"

"It was like as if he was going to, " said Gallagher, "and 'the patriotstatesman, ' says he, 'the mighty warrior, ' says he, and more to that, the same as if he might be making a speech about the land and the leagueboys cheering him. "

"I'm rather bothered about that American in some ways, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Are you telling me the truth now, Thady, about what he said?"

"I am, " said Gallagher. "I'd take my oath to every word of it. "

"Either he's a much greater fool than he looks, " said Dr. O'Grady, "orelse—but I'll find that out afterwards. Go on with your story, Thady. What happened next?"

"Well, after he'd cried about a saucerful——"

"I thought you said he didn't actually cry?"

"It was like as if he was going to cry. I told you that before. "

"Come on, O'Grady, " said the Major. "What's the use of listening to thissort of stuff?"

"Be quiet, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We're just coming to the point. Go ahead, Thady. You'd just got to the saucerful of tears. When he'demptied that out, what did he do?"

"He asked me, " said Gallagher, "was there any relatives or friends ofthe General surviving in the locality? He had me beat there. "

"I hope you told him there were several, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I did, of course. Is it likely I'd disappoint the gentleman, and himset on finding someone belonging to the General? 'Who are they?' saidhe. 'Tell me their names, ' Well, it was there I made the mistake. "

"It was a bit awkward, " said Dr. O'Grady, "when you didn't know who theGeneral was. "

"What I thought to myself, " said Gallagher, "was this. There might bemany a one in the locality that would be glad enough to be a cousin ofthe General's, even if there was no money to be got out of it, and itcould be that there would. But, not knowing much about the General, Iwasn't easy in my mind for fear that anybody I named might be terribleangry with me after for giving them a cousin that might be some sort ofa disgrace to the family——"

"I see now, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You thought it safer to name somebodywho didn't exist. But what made you think of a wife for young Kerrigan?"

"It was the first thing came into my head, " said Gallagher, "and I wasthat flustered I said it without thinking. "

"Well, how did he take it?"

"He was mighty pleased, so he was. 'Take me to her, ' he said. 'Take meto see her this minute, ' Well, to be sure I couldn't do that. "

"You could not, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Could he, Major?"

"I don't see why not. He might have hired some girl for half an hour. "

"No decent girl would do it, " said Gallagher, "and anyway I wouldn'thave had the time, for he had me in the motor again before I knew wherehe was and 'Show me the way to the house, ' says he. 'You can't see herat the present time, ' says I, 'though you may later, ' 'And why not?'says he. 'The reason why you can't, ' says I, 'is a delicate matter, ''Oh!' says he. 'That's the way of it, is it? I'm glad to hear of it. Themore of the stock of the old General there are in the world the better. 'Well, when I seen him so pleased as all that, I thought it would be noharm to please him more. 'It's twins, ' I said, 'and what's more the bothof them is boys, ' 'Take me to see the father, ' says he. 'I'll be able tosee him anyway. I'd like to shake him by the hand. '"

"Has he seen young Kerrigan?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He has not; but he won't rest easy till he does. I wanted to run roundand tell young Kerrigan the way things are, so as he'd be ready whenthe gentleman came. But Doyle said it would be better for me to tell youwhat had happened before worse came of it. "

"Doyle was perfectly right Kerrigan would stand over your story allright as long as he could, but in the end he'd have had to produce thetwins. That's the awkward part. If you hadn't said twins we might havemanaged. But there isn't a pair in the town. "

"Couldn't you telegraph to Dublin?" said the Major. "For a man of yourresource, O'Grady, mere twins ought not to prove a hopeless obstacle. Ishould think that one of the hospitals where they go in for that kind ofthing would be quite glad to let you have a brace of babies in or aboutthe same age. "

O'Grady knew that this suggestion was not meant to be helpful. The Majorhad an objectionable habit of indulging in heavy sarcasm. He turned onhim sharply. 

"You'd better go home, Major. When you try to be facetious youaltogether cease to be useful. You know perfectly well that there'sno use talking about importing babies. What would we do with themafterwards? You couldn't expect young Kerrigan to keep them. "

"I offered to go home some time ago, " said the Major, "and you wouldn'tlet me. Now that I've heard about young Kerrigan's twins I mean to stopwhere I am and see what happens. "

"Very well, Major. Just as you like. As long as you don't upset Billingby rolling up any of those heavy jokes of yours against him I don'tmind. Here we are. I expect Doyle has Billing in the bar trying topacify him with whisky. You'd better stay outside, Thady. "

"I'd be glad of a drop then, " said Gallagher wistfully. "After all thetalking I did this afternoon——"

"Oh, go in if you like, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Probably the safest thingfor you to do is to get drunk. Here's Billing crossing the street He'sjust come out of Kerrigan's shop. Why on earth Doyle couldn't have kepthim in play till I came. .. . He's sure to have found out now that youngKerrigan isn't married. This will make my explanation far more difficultthan it need have been. "

"It will make it impossible, I should imagine, " said the Major. 

Mr. Billing, his hands in his coat pockets and a large cigar between histeeth, came jauntily across the street. Dr. O'Grady greeted him. 

"Good-evening, Mr. Billing, " he said. "I hope you've had a pleasant andsatisfactory afternoon. "

Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty came out of the barrack together. They joined the group opposite the hotel. Constable Moriarty wasgrinning broadly. He had evidently heard some version of the story aboutyoung Kerrigan's twins. 

"I am sorry to find, " said the doctor, "that Thady Gallagher made amistake, and a bad one, this afternoon. "

"I reckon, " said Mr. Billing, "that he kind of wandered from the path oftruth. "

"Young Kerrigan isn't married, " said the doctor. 

"The twins, " said Mr. Billing, "were an effort of imagination. I am aman of imagination myself, so I'm not complaining any. "

"Being a newspaper editor you have to be, of course, " said Dr. O'Grady. "But Gallagher's story wasn't pure imagination. It was rather whatI'd call prophetic. The fact is young Kerrigan is going to be married. Gallagher only anticipated things a bit. I daresay he thought theceremony had really taken place. He didn't mean to deceive you in anyway. Did you, Thady?"

He looked round as he spoke. He wanted Gallagher to confirm what hesaid. 

"He's within, " said Constable Moriarty, grinning, "and I wouldn't saybut he's having a drink. Anyway, here's Mr. Doyle. "

Doyle, having supplied Gallagher with a bottle of porter, came out ofthe hotel. He was naturally anxious to hear Dr. O'Grady's explanation. 

"The twins, " said Mr. Billing, "were considerable previous. "

"Not so much as you might think, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Once people getmarried, you know, Mr. Billing, it often happens—generally in fact—notnecessarily twins, but more or less that kind of thing. I can quiteunderstand Thady making the mistake. And the girl young Kerrigan's goingto marry really is a grandniece of the General's. Thady was quite rightthere. "

"I'd like to see her, " said Mr. Billing. "I'd like to take a photographof her. The Bolivian public will be interested in a photograph ofGeneral John Regan's grandniece. "

"Run and get your camera then, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I'll have her readyfor you by the time you're back. "

Mr. Billing, looking very well satisfied and quite without suspicion, went into the hotel. 

"Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "fetch Mary Ellen as quick as you can. "

"Is it Mary Ellen?"

"It is. Get her at once, and don't argue. "

"But sure Mary Ellen's not the grandniece of any General. "

"She's the only grandniece we can possibly get on such short notice, "said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I don't know, " said Sergeant Colgan, "will Mr. Gallagher be too wellpleased. Mary Ellen's a cousin of his own. "

"Thady will have to put up with a little inconvenience, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He got us all into this mess, so he can't complain. "

"I beg your pardon, doctor, " said Constable Moriarty, who had stoppedgrinning and looked truculent, "but I'll not have it put out that MaryEllen's going to marry young Kerrigan. He's a boy she never looked at, nor wouldn't. "

"Shut up, Moriarty, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If you won't call her, Doyle, Imust do it myself. Mary Ellen, Mary Ellen, come here!"

"What's the use of calling Mary Ellen?" said Doyle. "The girl knows wellenough she's not the niece nor the grandniece of any General. As soonas ever you face her with the American gentleman she'll be sayingsomething, be the same more or less, that'll let him know the way thingsare with her. "

"If I know anything of Mary Ellen, " said Dr. O'Grady, "she'll not saya word more than she need on any subject. I never could drag anythingbeyond 'I did, ' or 'I did not, ' or 'I might, ' out of her no matter howhard I tried, Mary Ellen! Mary Ellen! Ah! here she is. "

Mary Ellen came slowly through the door of the hotel. She smiled whenshe saw Dr. O'Grady, smiled again and then blushed when her eyes lit onConstable Moriarty. Her face and hands were a little dirtier than theyhad been earlier in the day, but she had added a small, crumpled, whitecap to the apron which she put on in honour of Mr. Billing. The sight ofher roused all Constable Moriarty's spirit. 

"I'll not have it done, doctor, " he said, "so there it is for youplain and straight. I'll not stand by and see the character of a decentgirl——"

"Whisht, can't you, " said Mary Ellen. 

"Sergeant, " said Dr. O'Grady, "this isn't a matter in which the policehave any business to interfere. No one is committing a crime of anysort. You'd far better send Moriarty back to the barrack before he makesa worse fool of himself than he has already. "

"Get along home out of that, Moriarty, " said the sergeant. "Do you wantme to have to report you to the District Inspector for neglect of duty?"

The threat was a terrific one. Moriarty quailed before it. He did notactually go back to the barrack; but he retired to the background anddid no more than look reproachfully at Mary Ellen whenever he thoughtshe was looking his way. 

"It's a great pity, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that we haven't time to washher face. I might do something, even without soap and water, if I hada pocket-handkerchief. Major, just lend me—— Oh hang it! I can't. Herecomes Billing with his camera. Pull yourself together now, Mary Ellen, and try to look as if you were proud of your distinguished relative. Itisn't every girl of your age who has a General for a great uncle. "

Mr. Billing approached. The corners of his lips were twitching in acurious way. Dr. O'Grady looked at him suspiciously. A casual observermight have supposed that Mr. Billing was trying hard not to smile. 

"This, " said Dr. O'Grady, pointing to Mary Ellen, "is the grandniece, the only surviving relative, of General John Regan. "

"You surprise me, " said Mr. Billing. "When I recollect that she cookedchops for my luncheon to-day I'm amazed. "

"The General wouldn't have thought a bit the worse of her for that, "said Dr. O'Grady. "A true democrat, the General, if ever there was one. I daresay he often cooked chops himself, when campaigning I mean, andwas jolly glad to get chops to cook. "

"So you, " said Mr. Billing, addressing Mary Ellen, "are the grandnieceof the great General?"

"I might be, " she said. 

"And I am to have the privilege—gentlemen, please stand a little aside. I wish to——"

Mr. Billing set up his camera and put his head under the black cloth. Constable Moriarty sidled up to Major Kent. Nothing had been said aboutMary Ellen's marriage with young Kerrigan. He felt that he had beenunnecessarily alarmed. 

"I beg your pardon, Major, " he said, "but maybe if you asked thegentleman he'd give me a copy of the photo when it's took. "

"Talk to the doctor about that, " said the Major. "He's managing thisshow. I've nothing to do with it. "

"I'd be backward about asking the doctor, " said Moriarty, "on accountof what passed between us a minute ago when I thought he was wanting totake away the girl's character. "

Mr. Billing completed his arrangements and stood beside his camera readyto release the shutter. 

"You're quite sure, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you wouldn't care to haveher face washed?"

"Certain, " said Mr. Billing. "The General was a genuine democrat ifever there was one. He wouldn't have thought a bit the worse of her forhaving a dirty face. "

Dr. O'Grady started slightly and then looked questioningly at Mr. Billing. It struck him that there was something suspicious about thisrepetition of his words. He glanced at the Major, at Doyle, and then atthe two policemen. They all seemed completely absorbed in the taking ofthe photograph. Mr. Billing's last remark had not struck them as in anyway odd. 

The shutter clicked. One of Mary Ellen's sweetest smiles was securedon the sensitive plate. Constable Moriarty, greatly daring, asked Mr. Billing for a print of the photograph. Mr. Billing promised him a copyof the life of General John Regan when it appeared. He said that therewould be a full page reproduction of Mary Ellen's portrait in the secondvolume. 

"The Major and I must be off, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but if I may call onyou to-morrow morning, Mr. Billing, I should like to make arrangementsabout the public meeting. We want to have you at it. "

"The meeting?" said Doyle. 

"The meeting about the statue, " said Dr. O'Grady. "By the way, Doyle, you might call on Father McCormack this evening. " He spoke with a glanceat Mr. Billing which he hoped that Doyle would interpret correctly. "You'd better remind him that he's to take the chair. He promised a weekago, but he may have forgotten. That's the worst of these good-naturedmen, " he added, speaking directly to Mr. Billing. "They promiseanything, and then it's ten to one they forget all about it. "

"I'm not quite sure, " said Mr. Billing, "that my arrangements will allowme——"

"Oh, they will if you squeeze them a bit. Arrangements are extraordinarypliable things if you handle them firmly, and we'd like to have you. Aspeech from you about the General would be most interesting. It wouldstimulate the whole population. Wouldn't it, Major?"

"I'd like to hear it, " said the Major. 

"Good-bye then, for the present, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Come along, Major. By the way, Doyle, if Thady takes a drop too much to drink, and he may, don't let him start boring Mr. Billing about Home Rule. "

He took Major Kent by the arm and walked off. Until they passed theend of the street and were well out on the lonely road which led to theMajor's house, neither of them spoke. Then the Major broke the silence. 

"I hope, O'Grady, that you're satisfied with that performance. "

"To tell you the truth, Major, I'm not. "

"I'm surprised to hear that, " said the Major. "You've told the mostoutrageous lies I ever heard. You've—-"

"I gave the only possible explanation of a rather difficult situation. "

"You've made a laughing stock of a respectable girl. "

"I've given Mary Ellen a great uncle that she ought to be proud to own. That's not what's bothering me. "

"What is, then?"

"That American, " said the doctor. "I don't at all like the way he'sgoing on. He's not by any means a fool——"

"He must be or he wouldn't have swallowed all those lies you told him inthe way he did. How could Mary Ellen possibly be———?"

"That's just it, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He swallowed what I said far tooeasily. The situation, owing to Thady Gallagher's want of presence ofmind, was complex, desperately complex. I got out of it as well as anyman could, but I don't deny that the explanation I gave—particularlythat part about Mary Ellen being engaged to young Kerrigan, was a bitstrained. I expected the American would have shied. But he didn't. Heswallowed it whole without so much as a choke. Now I don't think thatwas quite natural. The fact is, Major, I'm uneasy about Billing. Itstruck me that there was something rather odd in the way he repeatedmy words about the General being a genuine democrat. He gave me theimpression that he was—well, trying to make fools of us. "

"You were certainly trying to make a fool of him. "

"I don't quite understand his game, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if he has agame. I may be wronging him. He may be simply an idiot, a well-meaningidiot with a craze for statues. "

"He must be, " said the Major. "Nothing else would account for——"

"I doubt it, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He doesn't look that kind of man. However, there's no use talking any more about it to-night. I'll be in abetter position to judge when I've found out all there is to know aboutthis General of his. I'll write for the books I've mentioned, and I'llwrite to a man I know in the National Library. If there's anything knownabout the General on this side of the Atlantic he'll ferret it out forme. "

Dr. O'Grady stopped speaking. The Major supposed that he had stoppedthinking about Mr. Billing's curious conduct. The doctor did indeedintend to stop thinking about it. But it is difficult to bridle thought. After walking half a mile in silence Dr. O'Grady spoke again, and hiswords showed that his mind was still working on the same problem. 

"Americans have far too good an opinion of themselves, " he said. "Billing may possibly think he's playing some kind of trick on us. Hemay be laughing at us in some way we don't quite understand. "

"I don't know whether he's laughing or not, " said the Major, "buteverybody else will be very soon if you go on as you're going. "

CHAPTER VI

It is very difficult to do anything of importance to the communitywithout holding a public meeting about it. In Ireland people have got soaccustomed to oratory and the resolutions which are the immediate excusefor oratory, that public meetings are absolutely necessary preliminariesto any enterprise. This is the case in all four provinces, which isone of the things which goes to show that the Irish are really a singlepeople and not two or three different peoples, as some writers assert. The hard-headed, commercially-minded Ulsterman is just as fond of publicmeetings as the Connacht Celt. He would hold them, with drums and fulldress speechifying, even if he were organising a secret society andarranging for a rebellion. He is perfectly right. Without a publicmeeting it would be impossible to enrol any large number of members fora society. 

Dr. O'Grady, having lived all his life in Ireland, and being on mostintimate terms with his neighbours, understood this law. He alsounderstood that in order to make a success of a public meeting inConnacht and therefore to further the enterprise on hand, it isnecessary that the parish priest should take the chair and advisablethat a Member of Parliament should propose the first resolution. 

He began by sending Doyle to Father McCormack. Doyle, foreseeing apossible profit for himself, did his best to persuade Father McCormackto take the chair. Father McCormack, who was a fat man and thereforegood-natured, did not want to refuse Doyle. But Father McCormack wasnot a free agent. Behind him, somewhere, was a bishop, reputed to beaustere, certainly domineering. Father McCormack was very much afraidof the bishop, therefore he hesitated. The most that Doyle could secure, after a long interview, was the promise of a definite answer the nextday. 

Father McCormack made use of the twenty-four hours' grace he had securedby calling on Major Kent. The Major was a Protestant, with stronganti-Papal convictions, and therefore was not, it might have beensupposed, a good man to advise a priest on a delicate question ofecclesiastical etiquette. But the Major was eminently respectable, andhis outlook upon life was staidly conservative. Father McCormack feltthat if Major Kent thoroughly approved of the erection of a statue toGeneral John Regan it was likely to be quite a proper thing to do. 

"I'm not sure, " said Father McCormack, "whether it will suit me to takethe chair at this meeting the doctor's getting up or not. I'm not sure, I say. Can you tell me now, Major Kent, who's this American gentlemanthey're all talking about?"

"I don't know anything about him, " said the Major, "but I'm bound tosay he looks like a Protestant. I don't know whether that will make anydifference to you or not. "

"From the little I've seen of him—just across the street from the windowof the Presbytery—I'd say you were right about his religion, but Ineedn't tell you, Major Kent, that I'm not a bigoted man. It wouldn'tstop me taking the chair if he was a Protestant. It wouldn't stop meif he was a Presbyterian, and I can't say more than that. You know verywell that I'd just as soon be sitting on a committee alongside of aProtestant as any ordinary kind of man. I'm not one that would letreligion interfere too much. "

"He seems quite respectable, " said the Major. "He's been here three daysnow, and I never saw him drunk. "

"It's not that either that's troubling me, " said Father McCormack. "There's many a man gets drunk when he can, and I'd be the last to maketoo much out of that. "

"I can't tell you any more about him, " said the Major, "for that's all Iknow, except that he appears to be rich. "

"The difficulty I'm in is on account of the bishop. He's getting to bemighty particular. I don't say he's wrong, mind you; only there itis. But sure, if no one in the place has anything to say against theAmerican gentleman it's likely he'll turn out to be all right. But whatabout the fellow they want to put up the statue to?"

"General John Regan, " said the Major. 

"What about him? I never heard tell of him before. "

"For the matter of that, nor did I. "

"Who was he at all?"

"You'll have to ask Dr. O'Grady that. He's the only man who professes toknow anything about him. "

"As I was saying to you this minute, " said Father McCormack, "I wouldn'tmind if he was a Protestant. "

"He hardly could be, " said the Major, "with that name. "

"There's many a Protestant that might be just as well deserving of astatue as maybe a bishop. But what I'm afraid of is that this fellowmight be worse. For let me tell you, Major, there's worse things thanProtestants, and I'm not saying that just because I'm talking to you. I'd say it to anyone. "

This gratified Major Kent, but it did not enable him to give anyinformation about General John Regan. 

"There's no use asking me about him, " he said wearily. "Ask Dr. O'Grady. "

"If it was to turn out at the latter end, " said Faflier McCormack, "thathe was one of those French atheists, or if he had any hand in huntingthe nuns out of Portugal, the bishop wouldn't be too well pleased whenhe heard that I'd been helping to put up a statue to him. "

"You'll have to ask Dr. O'Grady. It's no good asking me. "

"Will you tell me this, Major Kent, and I won't ask you anotherquestion. Are you going to the meeting yourself?"

"I am. "

"Well now, you're a man with a position in the place and you wouldn't begoing to a meeting of the sort unless it was all right. I'm inclined tothink now that if you're going—I wouldn't give a thraneen for what Doylemight do. If that fellow saw half a chance of making sixpence by goingto a meeting he'd go, if it was held for the purpose of breaking thewindows of the Presbytery. That's the sort of man Doyle is. And Iwouldn't mind Thady Gallagher. Thady is a kind-hearted poor fellow, though he's a bit foolish at times; but he's not the sort of man youcould trust. He's too fond of politics, and that's a fact. Give Thadythe opportunity of making a speech and you wouldn't be able to keep himat home from a meeting, whatever sort of a meeting it might be. But it'sdifferent with you, Major Kent. "

The Major was deeply touched by this eulogy; so deeply touched that hefelt it wrong to leave Father McCormack under the impression that he wasgoing to the meeting out of any feeling of admiration for General JohnRegan. 

"The fact is, " he said, "that I wouldn't go near the meeting if I couldhelp it. "

"Is there anything against that General then?"

"It's not that. It's simply that I loathe and detest all publicmeetings, and I wouldn't go to this one or any other if I could get outof it. "

"And why can't you get out of it? A man needn't go to a meeting unlesshe likes. "

"He must, " said the Major, "I must; any man must, if Dr. O'Grady gets athim. "

"That's true, too, " said Father McCormack, "and I don't mind telling youthat I've been keeping out of the doctor's way ever since Doyle askedme. I'd rather not see him till I have my mind made up the one way orthe other. "

It was unfortunate for Father McCormack that Dr. O'Grady should at thatmoment have walked into the Major's study without even knocking at thedoor. He had just received answers to his letters from four of the mosteminent Irish Members of Parliament He had asked them all to attend ameeting at Ballymoy and make speeches about General John Regan. Theyhad all refused, offering the very flimsiest excuses. Dr. O'Grady wasextremely indignant. 

"I don't see what on earth use there is, " he blurted out, "in ourkeeping Members of Parliament at all. Here we are paying these fellows£400 a year each, and when we ask for a perfectly simple speech—— Oh, I beg your pardon, Father McCormack, I didn't see you were here. But Idaresay you quite agree with me. Every one must. "

"Father McCormack came here, " said the Major, "to ask about General JohnRegan. "

"Who is he at all?" said the priest. 

"A general, " said Dr. O'Grady, "Irish extraction. Born in Ballymoy. Rose to great eminence in Bolivia. Finally secured the liberty of theRepublic. "

"Father McCormack seems to think, " said the Major, "that he was somekind of anti-clerical socialist. "

"I said he might be, " said Father McCormack. "I didn't say he was, for Idon't know a ha'porth about him. All I said was that if he turned outto be that kind of a man it wouldn't suit me to be putting up statues tohim. The Bishop wouldn't like it. "

"My impression is———" said Dr. O'Grady. "Mind, I don't say I'm perfectlycertain of it, but my impression is that he built a cathedral before hedied. Anyhow I never heard or read a single word against his characteras a religious man. He may have been a little——" Dr. O'Grady winkedslowly. "You know the kind of thing I mean, Father McCormack, when hewas young. Most military men are, more or less. I expect now that theMajor could tell us some queer stories about the sort of thing that goeson——"

"No, I couldn't, " said the Major. 

"In garrison towns, " said Dr. O'Grady persuasively, "and of course it'sworse on active service. Come now, Major, I'm not asking you to giveyourself away, but you could——"

"No, I couldn't, " said the Major firmly. 

"What you mean is that you wouldn't, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Not whileFather McCormack is listening to you anyhow. And you may take my wordfor it that the old General was just the same. He may have been a bit ofa lad in his early days——"

"I wouldn't mind that, " said Father McCormack. "I wouldn't mind that ifit was twice as much, so long——"

"But he'd never have said anything really disrespectful in the presenceof a clergyman of any denomination. Whatever his faults were—and he hadfaults, of course—he wasn't that kind of man. So you needn't hesitateabout taking the chair at the meeting, Father McCormack. I defy the mostparticular bishop that ever wore a purple stock to find out anythingreally bad about the General. "

"If I have your word for that, " said Father McCormack, "I'm satisfied. "

"I'm not a rich man, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I can't afford to lose money, but I'll pay down £50 to any man who proves anything bad about theGeneral. And when I say bad I don't, mean things like——"

"I understand you, " said Father McCormack. 

"I mean, " said Dr. O'Grady, "atheism of a blatant kind, or circulatingimmoral literature—Sunday papers, for instance—or wanting to turn thepriests out of the schools, or not paying his dues——"

"I understand you, " said Father McCormack. 

"I know what I'm talking about, " said Dr. O'Grady, "for I've had a manlooking up all that's known about General John Regan in the NationalLibrary in Dublin. "

CHAPTER VII

At the very bottom of the main street of Ballymoy, close to the littleharbour where the fishing boats nestled together in stormy weather, there is a disused mill. Corn was ground in it long ago. The farmersbrought it from the country round about after the threshing was over, and the stream which now flows idly into the sea was then kept busyturning a large wheel. Since the Americans have taken to supplyingIreland with flour ready ground, bleached, and fit for immediate use, the Irish farmers have left off growing wheat. Being wise men they seeno sense in toiling when other people are willing to toil instead ofthem. The Ballymoy mill, and many others like it, lie idle. They areslipping quietly through the gradual stages of decay and will one daybecome economically valuable to the country again as picturesque ruins. Few things are more attractive to tourists than ruins, and the countrywhich possesses an abundance of them is in a fair way to grow richeasily. But it is necessary that the ruins should be properly matured. No man with an educated taste for food will eat Stilton cheese which isonly half decayed. No educated tourist will take long journeys and payhotel bills in order to look at an immature ruin. The decaying mills ofIreland have not yet reached the profitable stage of development. Theirdoors and windows are still boarded up. Their walls are adorned withposters instead of ivy. No aesthetic archaeologist has as yet written abook about their architecture. 

The Ballymoy mill was the property of Doyle. He bought it verycheap when the previous owner, a son of the last miller, lapsed intobankruptcy. He saw no immediate prospect of making money out of it, buthe was one of those men—they generally end in being moderately rich—whobelieve that all real property will in the end acquire a value, ifonly it is possessed with sufficient patience. In the meanwhile, sincebuildings do not eat, and so long as they remain empty are not liablefor rates, the mill did not cost Doyle anything. He tried several timesto organise schemes by means of which he might be able to secure a rentfor the mill. When it became fashionable, eight or ten years ago, tostart what are tailed "industries" in Irish provincial towns, Doylesuggested that his mill should be turned into a bacon factory. A publicmeeting was held with Father McCormack in the chair, and Thady Gallaghermade an eloquent speech. Doyle himself offered to take shares in thenew company to the amount of £5. Father McCormack, who was named as adirector, also took five £1 shares. It was agreed that Doyle shouldbe paid £30 a year for the mill. At that point the scheme broke down, mainly because no one else would take any shares at all. 

A couple of years later Doyle tried again. This time he suggested astocking manufactory. Stockings are supposed to require less capitalthan bacon curing, and, as worked out on paper, they promise largeprofits. Doyle offered the mill for £25 a year this time, and wasgreatly praised by Thady Gallagher in the columns of the Connacht Eaglefor his patriotic self-sacrifice. Another large meeting was held, butonce more the public, though enthusiastic about the scheme, failed tosubscribe the capital. A great effort was made the next year to inducethe Government to buy the building for a £1, 000, with a view to turningit into a Technical School. A petition was signed by almost everyone inBallymoy setting forth the hungry desire of the people for instructionin the arts of life. Several Members of Parliament asked the ChiefSecretary searching questions on the subject of the Ballymoy TechnicalSchool. But the Chief Secretary declared himself quite unable to wringthe money out of the Treasury. Thady Gallagher wrote articles andmade speeches which ought to have caused acute discomfort to the PrimeMinister. But Doyle found himself obliged to give up the idea of aTechnical School. He waited hopefully. In the end, he felt sure, someway of utilising the old mill would be found. In the meanwhile thebuilding, though unprofitable to Doyle was not entirely useless. Itswalls, boarded doors and windows, formed the most excellent place forthe display of advertisements. The circuses which visited the town insummer covered a great deal of space with their posters. When retiringmembers of the Urban District Council wanted to be re-elected theynotified their desire by means of placards pasted on the walls ofDoyle's mill. All public meetings were advertised there. Doyle himselfmade nothing out of these advertisements; but Thady Gallagher did. Heprinted the posters, and it was admitted by everyone that he did it verywell. 

Two days after his arrival in Ballymoy, Mr. Billing strolled down tothe harbour. He was a man of restless and energetic disposition, but thevisits which he received from Dr. O'Grady, and the speeches about HomeRule to which Gallagher subjected him, began to worry him. In order tosoothe his nerves he used to spend an hour or two morning and eveninglooking at the fishermen who spent the day in contemplating theirboats. There is nothing in the world more soothing than the study of afisherman's life on shore. When he is at sea it is probably strenuousenough. But then he very seldom is at sea, and when he is he is outof sight. Having, so to speak, drunk deeply of the torpor of Ballymoyharbour, Mr. Billing turned his face towards the shore and looked at thewall of Doyle's mill. He was startled to find six new posters stuckon it in a row. They were all bright green. Mr. Billing read them withinterest. 

The announcement opened with a prayer, printed in large type:

 "GOD SAVE IRELAND, "

 GENERAL JOHN REGAN

This was repeated at the bottom of each poster in the Irish language, which Mr. Billing could not read. Next to the prayer, in very muchlarger type, came the words:

 "A PUBLIC MEETING, "

Then, in quite small letters:

 "WILL BE HELD ON TUESDAY NEXT AT 3 P. M. IN THE MARKET SQUARE, OPPOSITE THE 'IMPERIAL HOTEL. '"

Mr. Billing read on and learned that Father McCormack would take thechair, that several distinguished Members of Parliament would addressthe meeting, that Mr. T. Gallagher, Chairman U. D. C. , would also speak, and that—here the letters became immense—Mr. Horace P. Billing, ofBolivia, would give an account of the life of General John Regan, inwhose honour it was proposed to erect a statue in Ballymoy. 

Mr. Billing smiled. Then he turned and walked briskly to the hotel. Hefound Doyle and Thady Gallagher seated together on the bench outside thedoor. He addressed them cheerfully:

"Say, gentlemen, " he said, "that doctor of yours seems to have got amove on this locality. The announcement of the meeting is a good thing, sure. "

"The doctor, " said Doyle, "is a fine man; but it would be better for himif he'd pay what he owes. I'm tired, so I am, of trying to get my moneyout of him. "

"The doctor, " said Gallagher, "has the good of the locality at heart, and whatever it might be that he takes in hand will be carried through. You may rely on the doctor. "

Thady Gallagher had not yet been paid for printing the green posters. But he had every hope he would be when Mr. Billing handed over hissubscription to the statue fund. He felt, it right to do all in hispower to encourage Mr. Billing. Doyle, on the other hand, was becomingdespondent. He did not like to see money which ought to be his fritteredaway on posters and the other necessary expenses of a public meeting. Hewas much less inclined to admire, the doctor's enterprise. 

"I guess, " said Mr. Billing, "that these Congressmen will draw some. "

"If you mean the Members of Parliament, " said Doyle, "the doctor told methis morning that they said they'd more to do than to be attending hismeetings. "

"It could be, " said Gallagher hopefully, "that one of them might. "

"They will not, " said Doyle. 

"We'll do without them, " said Mr. Billing. 

"That's what the doctor said to me, " said Gallagher. "'We'll do withoutthem, Thady, ' said he, 'so long as we have Mr. Billing and FatherMcCormack and yourself, ' meaning me, 'we'll have a good meeting if therenever was a Member of Parliament near it. ' And that's true too. "

"If the doctor, " said Doyle, "would pay what he owes instead of wastinghis time over public meetings and statues and the like it would bebetter. Not that I'd say a word against the statue, or, for the matterof that, against the doctor, who's well liked in the town by allclasses. "

The Tuesday fixed for the meeting was a well chosen day. It was theoccasion of one of the largest fairs held in Ballymoy during the year. The country people, small farmers and their wives, flock into the townwhenever there is a fair. The streets are thronged with cattle lowingmiserably. "Buyers, " men whose business it is to carry the half-fedConnacht beasts to the fattening pastures of Meath and Kildare, assemblein large numbers and haggle over prices from early dawn till noon. No better occasion for the exploitation of a cause could possiblybe chosen. And three o'clock was a very good hour. By that time thebusiness of the fair is well over. The buying and selling is finished. But no one has gone home, and no one is more than partially drunk. Itis safe to expect that everybody will welcome the entertainment that ameeting affords during the dull time which must intervene between thefinishing of the day's business and the weary journey home. 

The green posters were distributed far and wide. They adorned everygatepost and every wall sufficiently smooth to hold them within a circleof three miles radius around the town. There was some talk beforehandabout the meeting. But on the whole the people displayed very littlecuriosity about General John Regan. It was taken for granted that he hadbeen in some way associated with the cause of Irish Nationality, and oneor two people professed to recollect that he had fought on the side ofthe Boers during the South African War. Whoever he was, the peoplewere inclined to support the movement for erecting a statue to him bycheering anything which Thady Gallagher said. But they did not intend tosupport it in any other way. The Connacht farmer is like the rest of thehuman race in his dislike of being asked to subscribe to anything. He issuperior to most other men in his capacity for resisting the pressure ofthe subscription list. 

On the Saturday before the meeting Gallagher published a long articleon the subject of the General in the Connacht Eagle. It was read, as allGallagher's articles were, with respectful attention. Everybody expectedto find out by reading it who the General was. Everyone felt, as he readit, or listened to it read aloud, that he was learning all he wantedto know, and did not discover until he came to talk the matter overafterwards with his friends that he knew no more when he had read thearticle than he did before. 

It was not Thady Gallagher but Dr. O'Grady who wrote the article. Thady made several attempts and then gave up the matter in despair. Dr. O'Grady, though he was extremely busy at the time, had to do thewriting. It was very well done, and calculated to heat to the boilingpoint the enthusiasm of all patriotic people. He began by praisingThomas Emmet. He passed from him to Daniel O'Connell. He recommendedeveryone to read John Mitchell's "Jail Journal. " He described the greatwork done for Ireland by Charles Stewart Parnell. Then he said thatGeneral John Regan was, in his own way, at least the equal, possiblythe superior, of any of the patriots he had named. He wound up thecomposition with the statement that it was unnecessary to recapitulatethe great deeds of the General, because every Irishman worthy of thename knew all about them already. 

No one read the article with more eagerness and expectation thanGallagher himself. As the day of the meeting drew nearer he was becomingmore and more uncomfortable about his speech. He had not been able tofind out either from Doyle or from Father McCormack anything whateverabout the General. He did not want much. He was a practised orator andcould make a very small amount of information go a long way in a speech, but he did want something, if it was only a date to which he mightattach the General's birth or death. Doyle and the priest steadilyreferred him to Dr. O'Grady. From Sergeant Colgan he got nothingexcept a guess that the General might have been one of the Fenians. Dr. O'Grady, before the appearance of the article, promised that it wouldcontain all that anyone needed to know. After the article was publishedGallagher was ashamed to ask for further information, because he did notwant to confess himself an Irishman unworthy of the name. 

Doyle also was dissatisfied and became actually restive after theappearance of Saturday's Connacht Eagle. He was not in the leasttroubled by the vagueness of the leading article. He was not one of thespeakers at the meeting, and it did not matter to him whether he knewanything about General John Regan or not. What annoyed him was thepublication, in the advertisement columns of the paper, of a preliminarylist of subscribers. In the first place such an advertisement costmoney and could only be paid for out of Mr. Billing's subscription, thusfurther diminishing the small balance on which he was calculating assome compensation for the irrecoverable debt owed to him by Dr. O'Grady. In the second place his name appeared on the list as a donor, not of £5, but of £10. He knew perfectly well that he would not be expected to payany subscription, but he was vaguely annoyed at the threat of such aliability. 

On Sunday afternoon he called on Dr. O'Grady. 

"Wasn't it agreed, " he said, "that I was to be the treasurer of the fundfor putting up the statue?"

"It was, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and you are the treasurer. Didn't you seeyour name printed in the Connacht Eagle, 'Secretary, Dr. Lucius O'Grady. Treasurer, J. Doyle'?"

"If I'm the treasurer it's no more than right that I should have somesay in the way the money's being spent, for let me tell you, doctor—andI may as well speak plain when I'm at it—I'm not satisfied. I've hadsome correspondence with a nephew of mine who's in that line of businesshimself up in Dublin, and he tells me that £100 is little enough for astatue of any size. Now I'm not saying that I want to close the accountwith a balance in hand——"

"It's what you do want, Doyle, whether you say it or not. "

"But, " said Doyle ignoring this interruption, "it wouldn't suit me ifthere was any debt at the latter end. For it's myself would have topay it if there was, and that's what I'd not be inclined to do. The wayyou're spending money on posters and advertisements there'll be verylittle of the American gentleman's £100 left when it comes to buying thestatue. "

"I see your point all right, Doyle, but——"

"If you see it, " said Doyle, "I'm surprised at you going on the way youare; but, sure, I might have known that you wouldn't care how much you'dspend or how much you'd owe at the latter end. There's that £60——"

"Don't harp on about that miserable £60, " said Dr. O'Grady, "for I won'tstand it. Here I am doing the very best I can to make money for you, taking no end of trouble, and all you do is to come grumbling to me dayafter day about some beggarly account that I happen to owe you. "

"It's what I don't see is how I'm going to make a penny out of it atall, the way you're going on. "

"Listen to me now, Doyle. Supposing—I just say supposing—the Governmentwas to build a pier, a new pier, in Ballymoy, who do you think would getthe contract for the job?"

"I would, of course, " said Doyle, "for there'd be no other man in thetown fit to take it. "

"And how much do you suppose you'd make out of it?"

"What's the use of talking that way?" said Doyle. "Hasn't the Governmentbuilt us two piers already, and is it likely they'd build us another?"

"That's not the point. What I'm asking you is: Supposing they did buildanother and you got the contract for it, how much do you suppose you'dmake?"

"Well, " said Doyle, "if it was a good-sized pier and if the engineerthey sent down to inspect the work wasn't too smart altogether I mightclear £100. "

"Now, suppose, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you were able to sell the stonesof that old mill of yours——"

"They're good stones, so they are. "

"Exactly, and you'd expect a good price for them. Now suppose yousucceeded in selling them to the Government as raw material for thepier——"

"They'd be nice and handy for the work, " said Doyle. "Whoever was touse those stones for building the pier would save a devil of a lot ofexpense in carting. "

"That, of course, would be considered in fixing the price of thestones. "

"It would, " said Doyle. "It would have to be, for I wouldn't sell themwithout it was. "

"Under those circumstances, " said Dr. O'Grady, "what do you supposeyou'd make?"

"I'd make a tidy penny, " said Doyle. 

"Very well. Add that tidy penny to the £100 profit on the pier contractand it seems to me that it would pay you to lose a couple of pounds—andI don't admit that you will lose a penny—over the statue business. "

The mention of the statue brought Doyle back from a pleasant dream tothe region of hard fact. 

"What's the good of talking?" he said. "The Government will build nomore piers here. "

"I'm not so sure of that. If we were to get a hold of one of the realbig men, say the Lord-Lieutenant, if we were to bring him down here anddo him properly—flags, you know, Doyle, and the town band, andsomebody with a bouquet of flowers for his wife, and somebody else—allrespectable people, Doyle—with an illuminated address—and if we were allto stand round with our hats in our hands and cheer—in fact if we wereto do all the things that those sort of fellows really like to seedone——"

"We could have flags, " said Doyle, "and we could have the town band, andwe could have all the rest of what you say; but what good would they be?The Lord-Lieutenant wouldn't come to Ballymoy. It's a backward place, soit is. "

"I'll get to that in a minute, " said Dr. O'Grady. "But just suppose nowthat we had him and did all the things I say, do you think he'd refuseus a simple pier when we asked for it?"

"I don't know but he would. Hasn't the Government built two piers herealready? Is it likely they'd build a third?"

"Those two piers were built years and years ago, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Oneof them is more than ten years old this minute, and they were both builtby the last Government The present Lord-Lieutenant has probably never somuch as heard of them. We shouldn't go out of our way to remind him oftheir existence. Nobody else in Ireland will remember anything aboutthem. We'll start talking about the new pier as if it were quite anoriginal idea that nobody had ever heard of before. We'd get it to acertainty. "

Doyle was swept away by the glorious possibilities before him. 

"If so be the Lord-Lieutenant was to come, and the Lady-Lieutenant withhim, and more of the lords and ladies that does be attending on them upin Dublin Castle——"

"Aides-de-camp, and people of that sort, " said Dr. O'Grady. "They'dsimply swarm down on us. "

"There'd have to be a luncheon for them, " said Doyle. 

"And it would be in your hotel. I forgot about the luncheon. There'll bea pot of money to be made out of that. "

"With drinks and all, " said Doyle, with deep conviction. "There would. The like of them people wouldn't be contented with porter. "

"Champagne, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is the recognised tipple for anybodyhigh up in the Government service. It wouldn't be respectful not tooffer it. "

"But he won't come, " said Doyle. "What would bring him?"

"The statue will bring him. "

"The statue! Talk sense, doctor. What would the like of him want tobe looking at statues for? Won't he have as many as he wants in DublinCastle, and better ones than we'd be able to show him?"

"You're missing the point, Doyle. I'm not proposing to bring him downhere simply to look at a statue. I'm going to ask him to unveil it. Nowas far as I know the history of Ireland—and I'm as well up in it asmost men—that would be an absolutely unprecedented invitation for anyLord-Lieutenant to receive. The novelty of the thing will attract himat once. And what's more, the idea will appeal to his better nature. I needn't tell you, Doyle, that the earnest desire of everyLord-Lieutenant is to assist the material and intellectual advancementof Ireland. He's always getting opportunities of opening technicalschools and industrial shows of one sort or another. They've quiteceased to attract him. But we're displaying an entirely new spirit. Byerecting a public statue in a town like this we are showing that we'vearrived at an advanced stage of culture. There isn't another pottylittle one-horse town in Ireland that has ever shown the slightestdesire to set up a great and elevating work of art in its midst. You maynot appreciate that aspect of the matter, Doyle, but——"

"If I was to give my opinion, " said Doyle, "I'd say that statues wasfoolishness. "

"Exactly. But the Lord-Lieutenant, when he gets our invitation will giveyou credit for much finer feeling. Besides he'll see that we've beenstudying up our past history. The name of General John Regan will mean agreat deal to him although it conveys very little to you. "

"It's what Thady Gallagher is always asking, " said Doyle, "who was theGeneral?"

"Gallagher ought to know, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and I've told him so. "

"He does not know then. Nor I don't believe Father McCormack does. NorI don't know myself. Not that it would trouble me if there never wasa General, only that you have Mary Ellen's head turned with the notionthat she'll be coming into a big fortune one of these days——"

"Is she not doing her work?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Devil the tap she's done these two days, but what she couldn't help. Not that that bothers me, for it's nothing strange. She never was onefor doing much unless you stood over her and drove her into it. But whathas annoyed me is the way Constable Moriarty is never out of the kitchenor the back yard. He was after her before, but he's fifty times worsesince he heard the talk about her being the niece of the General. Besides the notion he has that young Kerrigan wants her, which has madehim wild. "

"Moriarty ought to have more sense, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He ought, " said Doyle, "but he hasn't. The tunes he whistles round thehouse would drive you demented if so be that you listened to them; but Ineedn't tell you I don't do that. "

"You'll have to put up with it, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It won't be forvery long, and you needn't mind what Mary Ellen neglects so long as sheattends properly on Mr. Billing. "

"She'll attend him right enough, " said Doyle. "Since ever she got thenotion that he was going to make a lady of her, attending on him is theone thing that she will do. "

"Then you needn't bother your head about anything else. "

CHAPTER VIII

There are men in the world, a great many of them—who are capable ofmanaging details with thoroughness and efficiency. These men makeadmirable lieutenants and fill subordinate positions so well thattowards the end of their lives they are allowed to attend full dressevening parties with medals and stars hung round their necks or pinnedon their coats. There are also a good many men who are capableof conceiving great ideas and forming vast plans, but who have anunconquerable aversion to anything in the way of a detail. These mengenerally end their days in obscure asylums, possibly in workhouses, and their ideas, after living for a while as subject matter for jests, perish unrealised. There is also a third kind of man, fortunately a veryrare kind. He is capable of conceiving great ideas, and has besidesan insatiable delight in working out details. He may end his days asa victorious general, or even as an emperor. If he prefers a lessostentatious kind of reward, he will die a millionaire. 

Dr. Lucius O'Grady belonged to this third class. In the face of Doyle'sobjection to his expenditure on posters, he was capable of conceivingon the spur of the moment and without previous meditation, the audaciousand magnificent plan of bringing the Lord-Lieutenant to Ballymoy andwrestling from a reluctant treasury a sufficient sum of money to build athird pier on the beach below the town. There may have been other men inIreland capable of making such a plan. There was certainly no oneelse who would have set himself, as Dr. O'Grady did, with tirelessenthusiasm, to work out the details necessary to the plan's success. 

As soon as Doyle left him he mounted his bicycle and rode out to theGreggs' home. Mr. Gregg, being the District Inspector of Police, wasusually a very busy man. But the Government, though a hard task-masterin the case of minor officials, does not insist on anyone inspecting orbeing inspected on Sunday afternoons. Mr. Gregg had taken advantage ofthe Government's respect for revealed religion, and had gone out with afishing rod to catch trout. Mrs. Gregg was at home. Being a bride of notmore than three months' standing she had nothing particular to do, andwas yawning rather wearily over the fashion-plates of a ladies' paper. She seemed unaffectedly glad to see Dr. O'Grady, and at once offered togive him tea. The doctor refused the tea, and plunged into his business. 

"I suppose, " he said, "that you'll have no objection to presenting abouquet to Lady Chesterton when she comes to Ballymoy?"

"Is she coming?" said Mrs. Gregg. "How splendid!"

Before marrying Mr. Gregg she had lived in a Dublin suburb. Accustomedto the rich and varied life of a metropolis she found Ballymoy a littledull. She recognised Major Kent as "a dear old boy, " but he wasquite unexciting. Mrs. Ford, the wife of a rather morose stipendiarymagistrate, had severely snubbed Mrs. Gregg. There was no one else, andthe gay frocks of Mrs. Gregg's bridal outfit were wasting their firstfreshness with hardly an opportunity of being worn. 

"Yes, " said Dr. O'Grady. "She's coming with the Lord-Lieutenant tounveil the new statue. "

"How splendid!" said Mrs. Gregg again. "I heard something about thestatue, but please tell me more, Dr. O'Grady. I do so want to know. "

"Oh, there's nothing particular to tell about the statue. It's to beto the memory of General John Regan, and will be unveiled in the usualway. "

This did not add much to the information which Mr. Gregg, who himselfhad gleaned what he knew from Sergeant Colgan, had already given her. But Mrs. Gregg was quite content with it. She did not, in fact, wantto know anything about the statue. She only asked about it because shethought she ought to. Her mind was dwelling on the dazzling prospect ofpresenting a bouquet to Lady Chesterton. 

"Of course I should love to, " she said. "But I wonder if I could—really, I mean. "

Dr. O'Grady was a man of quick intelligence. He realised at once thatMrs. Gregg had not been listening to his account of the statue, but thatshe was replying to his original suggestion. 

"It's not the least difficult, " he said. "Anyone could do it, but we'dlike to have it done really well. That's the reason we're asking you. "

"Don't you have to walk backwards?" said Mrs. Gregg. "I'd love to do it, of course, but I never have before. "

"There's no necessity to walk at all. You simply stand in the front rowof the spectators with the bouquet in your hand. Then, when she stopsopposite you and smiles—she'll be warned beforehand, of course—and she'shad such a lot of practice that she's sure to do it right—you curtseyand hand up the bouquet. She'll take it, and the whole thing will beover. "

"Oh, " said Mrs. Gregg, "is that all?"

Dr. O'Grady was conscious of a note of disappointment in her voice. Hefelt that he had over-emphasized the simplicity of the performance. Mrs. Gregg would have preferred a longer ceremony. He did his best to makesuch amends as were still possible. 

"Of course, " he said, "your photograph will be in all the illustratedpapers afterwards, and there will be a long description of your dress inThe Irish Times. "

"I'd love to do it, " said Mrs. Gregg. 

"Very well, then, " said Dr. O'Grady, "we'll consider that settled. "

Leaving Mrs. Gregg, he rode on to Major Kent's house. The Major, likeall men who are over forty years of age, who have good consciences andbalances in their banks, spent his Sunday afternoons sleeping in anarmchair. No one likes being awakened, either in a bedroom by a servant, in a railway carriage by a ticket collector, or on a Sunday afternoon bya friend. The Major answered Dr. O'Grady's greeting snappishly. 

"If you've come, " he said, "to ask me to make a speech at that meetingof yours on Tuesday, you may go straight home again, for I won't do it. "

"I'm not such a fool, " said Dr. O'Grady pleasantly, "as to ask you todo any such thing. I know jolly well you couldn't. Even if you couldand would, we shouldn't want you. We have Father McCormack, and ThadyGallagher, besides the American. That's as much as any audience couldstand!"

"If it isn't that you want, " said the Major, "what is it?"

"It's a pity you're in such an uncommonly bad temper, Major. If youwere even in your normal condition of torpid sulkiness you'd be ratherpleased to hear what I'm going to tell you. "

"If you're going to tell me that you've dropped that statue folly, Ishall be extremely pleased. "

"The news I have, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is far better than that. We'vedecided to ask the Lord-Lieutenant down to unveil the statue. "

"He won't come, " said the Major, "so that's all right. "

"He will come when it's explained to him that——"

"Oh, if you offer him one of your explanations———"

"Look here, Major. I don't think you quite grasp the significance ofwhat I'm telling you. Ever since I've known you you've been deploringthe disloyalty of the Irish people. I don't blame you for that. You'reby way of being a Unionist, so of course you have to. But if you werethe least bit sincere in what you say, you'd be delighted to hear thatDoyle and Thady Gallagher—Thady hasn't actually been told yet, butwhen he is he'll be as pleased as everyone else—you ought to be simplyoverjoyed to find that men like Doyle are inviting the Lord-Lieutenantdown to unveil their statue. It shows that they're getting steadilyloyaler and loyaler. Instead of exulting in the fact you start sneeringin a cynical and altogether disgusting way. "

"I don't believe much in Doyle's loyalty, " said the Major. 

"Fortunately, " said Dr. O'Grady, "Doyle thoroughly believes in yours. Heagrees with me that you are the first man who ought to be asked to jointhe reception committee. You can't possibly refuse. "

"I would refuse if I thought there was the slightest chance of theLord-Lieutenant coming. Do you think I want to stand about in a tall hatalong with half the blackguards in town?"

"Mrs. Gregg is going to present a bouquet, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Looking like a fool in the middle of the street, while you play sillytricks with a statue?"

"You won't be asked to do all that, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I am being asked. You're asking me this minute, and if I thought itwould come off——"

"As you think it won't you may as well join the committee. "

"I won't be secretary, " said the Major, "and I won't have hand, act, orpart, in asking the Lord-Lieutenant to come here. We don't want him, forone thing. "

"You'll not be asked so much as to sign a paper, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Ifyour name is required at the bottom of any document I'll write it foryou myself. "

"I wish to goodness, " said the Major, "that Billing—if that's the man'sname—had stayed in America attending to his own business, whateverit is, instead of coming here and starting all this fuss. There'll betrouble before you've done, O'Grady, more trouble than you care for. Iwish to God it was all well over. "

Nothing is more gratifying to the prophet of evil than the fulfilmentof his own prediction. When the fulfilment follows hard on the prophecy, when not more than half an hour separates them, the prophet ought to bea very happy man. This was Major Kent's case. He foretold trouble of themost exasperating kind for Dr. O'Grady, and he was immediately justifiedby the event. Unfortunately he did not expect an immediate fulfilmentof his words. Therefore he turned round in his chair and went to sleepagain when the doctor left him. If he had been sanguine enough to expectthat the doctor would be entangled in embarrassments at once, he wouldprobably have roused himself. He would have followed Dr. O'Grady back toBallymoy and would have had the satisfaction of gloating over thefirst of a long series of annoying difficulties. But the Major, thoughconfident that trouble would come, had no hope that it would begin assoon as it did. 

Dr. O'Grady was riding back to Ballymoy on his bicycle when he met Mrs. Ford, the wife of the stipendiary magistrate. She was walking brisklyalong the road which led out of the town. This fact at once aroused afeeling of vague uneasiness in the doctor's mind. Mrs. Ford was a stoutlady of more than fifty years of age. She always wore clothes whichseemed, and probably were, much too tight for her. Her husband'sposition and income entitled him to keep a pony trap, therefore Mrs. Ford very seldom walked at all. Dr. O'Grady had never before seen herwalk quickly. It was plain, too, that on this occasion Mrs. Ford waswalking for the mere sake of walking, a most unnatural thing for herto do. The road she was on led nowhere except to Major Kent's house, several miles away, and it was quite impossible to suppose that shemeant to call on him. She had, as Dr. O'Grady knew, quarrelled seriouslywith Major Kent two days earlier. 

Dr. O'Grady, slightly anxious and very curious, got off his bicycleand approached Mrs. Ford on foot. He noticed at once that her face waspurple in colour. It was generally red, and the unaccustomed exerciseshe was taking might account for the darker shade. Dr. O'Grady, arrivingwithin a few yards of her, took off his hat very politely. The purple ofMrs. Ford's face darkened ominously. 

"Nice day, " said Dr. O'Grady. "How's Mr. Ford?"

Mrs. Ford acknowledged this greeting with a stiff, scarcely perceptiblebow. Dr. O'Grady realised at once that she was angry, very seriouslyangry about something. Under ordinary circumstances Mrs. Ford's angerwould not have caused Dr. O'Grady any uneasiness. She was nearly alwaysangry with someone, and however angry she might be she would be obligedto call on Dr. O'Grady for assistance if either she or her husband fellill. There was no other doctor in the neighbourhood. The simplest andeasiest thing, under the circumstances, would have been to pass onwithout comment, and to wait patiently until Mrs. Ford either caughtinfluenza or was so deeply offended with someone else as to forget heranger against him. Society in small country towns is held together verylargely by the fact that it is highly inconvenient, if not actuallyimpossible, to keep two quarrels burning briskly at the same time. When, a week or two before, Mrs. Ford had been seriously angry withMrs. Gregg, she confided her grievances to Dr. O'Grady. Now that she wasannoyed with him she would be compelled to condone Mrs. Gregg's offencein order to tell her what Dr. O'Grady had done. In due time, so Dr. O'Grady knew, he would be forgiven in order that he might listen tothe story of the quarrel, which by that time she would have picked withMajor Kent. Therefore the doctor's first impulse was to imitate theLevite in the parable, and, having looked at Mrs. Ford with sympathy, topass by on the other side. 

But Dr. O'Grady was engaged in a great enterprise. He did not see howMrs. Ford's anger could make or mar the success of the Lord-Lieutenant'svisit to Ballymoy, but he could not afford to take risks. No wisegeneral likes to leave even a small wood on the flank of his line ofmarch without discovering whether there is anything in it or not. Dr. O'Grady determined to find out, if he could, what Mrs. Ford was sulkingabout. 

"I daresay you have heard, " he said, "about the Lord-Lieutenant's visitto Ballymoy. The date isn't fixed yet, but——"

Mrs. Ford sniffed and walked on without speaking. Dr. O'Grady was notthe kind of man who is easily baffled. He turned round and walked besideher. 

"I needn't tell you, " he said, "that the visit may mean a good deal toMr. Ford. We've all felt for a long time that his services and abilityentitle him to some recognition from the Government. "

Mrs. Ford was quite unmollified. She walked on without looking round. She even walked a little quicker than she had been walking before. Thiswas a foolish thing to do. She was a fat and elderly lady. Some ofher clothes, if not all of them, were certainly too tight for her. Thedoctor was young and in good condition. She could not possibly hope tooutstrip him in a race. 

"My idea is, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that when the Lord-Lieutenant meets Mr. Ford and becomes personally acquainted with him—there's to be a lunch, you know, in the hotel. A pretty good lunch, the best Doyle can do. Well, I confidently expect that when the Lord-Lieutenant finds out forhimself what an able and energetic man Mr. Ford is—— After all, thereare much nicer places than Ballymoy, besides all the jobs there aregoing under the Insurance Act, jolly well paid some of them, and you'dlike living in Dublin, wouldn't you, Mrs. Ford?"

Mrs. Ford stood still suddenly. She was evidently going to saysomething. Dr. O'Grady waited. He had to wait for some time, because thelady was very-much out of breath. At last she spoke. 

"Dr. O'Grady, " she said, "I believe in plain speaking. "

Neither Dr. O'Grady nor anyone else in Ballymoy doubted the truth ofthis. Nearly everybody had been spoken to plainly by Mrs. Ford atone time or another. Kerrigan, the butcher, was spoken to withuncompromising plainness once a week, on Saturday mornings. 

"Quite right, " said Dr. O'Grady, "there's nothing like it. "

"Then I may as well tell you, " said Mrs. Ford, "that I think it was dueto my position—however much you may dislike me personally——"

"I don't. On the contrary——"

"——Due to my position as the wife of the resident magistrate that I, andnot that Mrs. Gregg, should have been invited to present the bouquet toLady Chesterton. "

Dr. O'Grady gasped. Then he realised that he had made a fearful blunder. 

"Half an hour ago, " said Mrs. Ford, "that woman, who isn't even a lady, bounced into my house, giggling, and told me to my face that you hadasked her——"

"Silly little thing, isn't she?" said Dr. O'Grady. "But of course, youhave far too much sense to be annoyed by anything she said. "

"Don't imagine for a moment, " said Mrs. Ford, "that I am vexed. Theslight, although it was evidently intentional, does not affect me inthe least. If you knew me a little better than you do, Dr. O'Grady, youwould understand that I am not at all the sort of person who cares aboutpresenting bouquets. "

"Of course not, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We quite realised that. Weunderstood that in your position, as wife of the resident magistrate ofthe district, the presentation of a bouquet would have been infra dig. After all, what's a bouquet? Poor little Mrs. Gregg! Of course it's agreat promotion for her and she's naturally a bit above herself. But noone would dream of asking you to present a bouquet. We have far too higha respect for Mr. Ford's position. "

"I think, " said Mrs. Ford, "that I ought to have been consulted. "

"Didn't you get my letter?"

"I got no letter whatever. The first news I had of his Excellency'sintention of visiting Ballymoy came to me from that Mrs. Gregg half anhour ago, when she rushed into my drawing-room with her hair tumblingabout her ears——"

"That's the worst of Doyle. He means well, but he's frightfullycareless. "

"What has Mr. Doyle to do with it?"

"I gave him the letter to post. Did you really not get it?"

"I got no letter whatever. "

"I don't know what you must have thought of us. I don't know what Mr. Ford must have thought. I don't know how to apologise. But the firstthing we did, the very first——Mrs. Gregg and the bouquet were a mereafterthought, we just tacked her on to the programme so that the poorlittle woman wouldn't feel out of it. She is a silly little thing, youknow. Not more than a child after all. It was better to humour her. "

"What was in the letter which you say you posted?" said Mrs. Ford. 

"I didn't say I posted it. I said Doyle forgot to. It's in his pocket atthis moment, I expect. "

"What was in it?"

"Can you ask? There is only one thing which could possibly be in it. Itexpresses the unanimous wish of the committee—the reception committee, you know—Major Kent's on it—that you should present an illuminatedaddress of welcome to His Excellency. "

"If such a letter were really written——"

"My dear Mrs. Ford! But I don't ask you to take my word for it. Justwalk straight into Ballymoy yourself. I'll stay here till you come back. Go into the hotel. You'll find Doyle in his own room drinking whiskyand water with Thady Gallagher. Don't say a word to him. Don't ask himwhether he was given a letter or not. Simply put your hand into hisbreast pocket and take it out. "

"Thank you, " said Mrs. Ford. "I do not care to have anything to do withMr. Doyle when he is drunk. "

"He won't be. Not at this hour. It takes a lot to make Doyle drunk. "

"When the letter arrives, if it ever does, I shall consult Mr. Ford asto what answer I shall give. "

"I can tell you what he'll say beforehand, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He'llrealise the importance of the illuminated address. He'll understand thatit's the thing and that the bouquet——"

"Good-bye, Dr. O'Grady, " said Mrs. Ford. 

The doctor mounted his bicycle. His face was very nearly as purple asMrs. Ford's. He had, with the greatest difficulty survived a crisis. Herode at top speed into Ballymoy, and dismounted, very hot, at the doorof the hotel. It was shut. He ran round to the back of the house andentered the yard. Constable Moriarty and Mary Ellen were sitting side byside on the wall of the pig-stye. They were sitting very close together. Moriarty was whistling "Eileen Allan-nah" softly in Mary Ellen's ear. 

"Where's Mr. Doyle?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"As regards the visit of the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Constable Moriartyrousing himself and moving a little bit away from Mary Ellen, "what Iwas saying this minute to Mary Ellen was——"

"Where's Mr. Doyle?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He's within, " said Mary Ellen. "Where else would he be?"

"As regards the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Constable Moriarty, "and seeingthat Mary Ellen might be a near friend of the gentleman that thestatue's for——"

Dr. O'Grady hurried through the back door. He found Doyle sitting overaccount books in his private-room. That was his way of spending Sundayafternoon. 

"A sheet of notepaper, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Quick now, Doyle. I have myfountain pen, so don't bother about ink. "

"Where's the hurry?" said Doyle. 

"There's every hurry. "

He wrote rapidly, folded the letter, addressed it to Mrs. Ford, andhanded it to Doyle. 

"Put that in your trousers' pocket, " he said, "and roll it round a fewtimes. I want it to look as if it had been there for two or three days. "

"What's the meaning of this at all?" said Doyle. 

"Now get your hat. Go off as fast as you can pelt to Mr. Ford's house. Give that letter to the servant and tell her that you only found outthis afternoon that you'd forgotten to post it. "

"Will you tell me——?"

"I'll tell you nothing till you're back. Go on now, Doyle. Go at once. If you hurry you'll get to the house before she does. She was two milesout of the town when I left her and too exhausted to walk fast. But ifyou do meet her remember that you haven't seen me since yesterday. Haveyou got that clear in your head? Very well. Off with you. And, I say, Iexpect the letter will be looking all right when you take it out again, but if it isn't just rub it up and down the front of your trousers fora while. I want it to be brownish and a good deal crumpled. It won't doany harm if you blow a few puffs of tobacco over it. "

CHAPTER IX

An hour later Doyle entered the doctor's consulting room. 

"I have it done, " he said. "I done what you bid me; but devil such ajob ever I had as what it was. " Doyle had evidently suffered from somestrong emotion, anger perhaps, or terror. He felt in his pocket as hespoke, and, finding that he had no handkerchief, he wiped his foreheadwith the back of his hand. He looked at his hand afterwards and sighed. The hairs on the back of it were pasted down with sweat "Have you such athing as a drop of anything to drink in the house?"

"I have not, " said Dr. O'Grady, "how could I? Do you think I've lost allmy self-respect? Is it likely I'd order another bottle of whisky out ofyour shop when you're dunning me every day of my life for the price ofthe last I got? Tell me what happened about the letter?"

Doyle passed a parched tongue across his lips. The inside of his mouthwas quite dry. Extreme nervous excitement often produces this effect. 

"If it was even a cup of tea, " he said, "it would be better thannothing. I've a terrible thirst on me. "

"Sorry, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but I've no tea either. Not a grain in thehouse since last Friday. I hope this will be a lesson to you, Doyle, and will teach you not to ballyrag your customers in future. But I don'twant to rub it in. Get on with your story. "

"It could be, " said Doyle, "that there'd be water in your pump. I'm notsure will I be able to speak much without I drink something. "

"The pump's all right, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Just sit where you are fora moment and I'll fetch you some water. It may give you typhoid. Iwouldn't drink it myself without boiling it, but that's your look out. "

He left the moor and returned a few minutes later with a large tumblerof cold water. Doyle looked at it mournfully. He knew perfectly wellthat the doctor had both whisky and tea in the house, but he recognisedthe impossibility of getting either the one or the other. He raised theglass to his mouth. 

"Glory be to God, " he said, "but it's the first time I've wetted my lipswith the same this twenty years!"

"It will do you a lot of good if it doesn't give you typhoid, " said Dr. O'Grady. "How did you get so frightfully thirsty?"

The question was natural. Doyle drank the whole tumbler of water at adraught. There was no doubt that he had been very thirsty. 

"Will you tell me now, " he said, "what had that one in the temper shewas in?"

"Mrs. Ford, " said Dr. O'Grady, "was annoyed because she thought shewasn't going to be given a chance of making herself agreeable to theLord-Lieutenant. "

"If she speaks to the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Doyle, "after the fashionshe was speaking to me, it's likely that she'll not get the chance ofmaking herself agreeable to him a second time. Devil such a temper Iever saw any woman in, and I've seen some in my day. "

"I know she'd be a bit savage. I hoped you wouldn't have met her. "

"I did meet her. Wasn't she turning in at the gate at the same time thatI was myself? 'There's a letter here, ma'am, ' says I, 'that the doctortold me I was to give to you, ' 'I suppose it was half an hour ago, 'said she, 'that he told you that, ' Well, I pulled the letter out of mypocket, and I gave it a rub along the side of my pants the same as youtold me. 'I suppose you're doing that, ' said she, 'to put some dirton it, to make it look, ' said she, 'as if it had been in your pocket aweek. '"

"You wouldn't think to look at her that she was so cute, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What did you say?"

"I said nothing either good or bad, " said Doyle, "only that it was toget the dirt off the letter, and not to be putting it on that I wasgiving it a bit of a rub. Well, she took the letter and she opened it. Then she looked me straight in the face. 'When did you get this letterfrom the doctor?' says she. So I told her it was last Friday you give itto me, and that I hadn't seen you since, and didn't care a great dealif I never seen you again. 'You impudent blackguard, ' says she, 'theletter's not an hour written. The ink's not more than just dry onit yet, ' 'I'm surprised, ' said I, 'that it's that much itself. It'sdripping wet I'd expect it to be with the sweat I'm in this minute onaccount of the way I've run to give it to you. '"

"Good, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If there was a drop of whisky in the houseI'd give it to you. I'll look in a minute. There might be some left inthe bottom of the bottle. A man who can tell a lie like that on the spurof the moment——"

"It was true enough about the sweat, " said Doyle. "You could have wrungmy shirt into a bucket, though it wasn't running did it, for I didn'trun. It was the way she was looking at me. I'm not overly fond of Mr. Ford, and never was; but I don't know did ever I feel as sorry for anyman as I did for him when she was looking at me. "

The doctor rose and took a bottle of whisky from the cupboard in thecorner of the room. There was enough in it to give Doyle a satisfactorydrink and still to leave some for the doctor himself. He got anothertumbler and two bottles of soda water. 

"You needn't be opening one of them for me, " said Doyle, "I have asmuch water drunk already as would drown all the whisky you have in thebottle. What I take now I'll take plain. "

"She may be a bit sceptical about the letter, " said Dr. O'Grady, "butI expect when she's talked it over with Ford she'll see the sense ofpresenting the illuminated address. "

"Is it that one present the address? Believe you me, doctor, if she doesthe Lord-Lieutenant won't be inclined for giving us the pier. The lookof her would turn a barrel of porter sour. "

"She'll look quite different, " said Dr. O'Grady, "when the time comes. After all, Ford has to make the best of his opportunities like therest of us. He can't afford to allow his wife to scowl at theLord-Lieutenant. "

"Was there no one else about the place, only her?" said Doyle. 

"There were others, of course; but—the fact is, Doyle, if we got herback up at the start her husband would have written letters toDublin Castle crabbing the whole show. Those fellows up there placeextraordinary confidence in resident magistrates. They'd have been muchmore inclined to believe him than either you or me. If Ford was to setto work to spoil our show we'd probably not have got the Lord-Lieutenantdown here at all. That's why I was so keen on your getting the letter toher at once, and leaving her under the impression that you'd had it inyour pocket for two days. "

"Devil the sign of believing any such thing there was about her when Ileft. "

"She may come to believe it later on, " said Dr. O'Grady, "when she andFord have had time to talk the whole thing over together. "

The doctor's servant came into the room while he spoke. 

"Constable Moriarty is outside at the door, " she said, "and he's wishingto speak with you. There's a young woman along with him. "

"Mary Ellen, I expect, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He's upset in his mind about that same Mary Ellen, " said Doyle, "eversince he heard she was the niece of the General. It's day and night he'sround the hotel whistling all sorts and——"

"You told me all about that before, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Bring him in, Bridgy, bring in the pair of them, and let's hear what it is they want. "

Constable Moriarty entered the room, followed at a little distance byMary Ellen. He led her forward, and set her in front of Dr. O'Grady. Helooked very much as Touchstone must have looked when he presented therustic Audrey to the exiled Duke as "a poor virgin, sir, an ill-favouredthing, sir, but mine own. "

"If you want a marriage license, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you've come to thewrong man. Go up to Father McCormack. "

"I do not want a marriage license, " said Constable Moriarty, "for I'mnot long enough in the force to get leave to marry. And to do it withoutleave is what I wouldn't care to risk. "

"If you don't want to marry her, " said Doyle, "I'd be glad if you'd lether alone the way she'd be able to do her work. It's upsetting her mindyou are with the way you're going on. "

"Is it true what they tell me, " said Moriarty, "that theLord-Lieutenant's coming to the town?"

"I think we may say it is true, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"To open the statue you're putting up to the General?"

"'Open' isn't the word used about statues, " said Dr. O'Grady, "butyou've got the general idea right enough. "

"What I was saying to Mary Ellen, " said Moriarty, "is that seeing asshe's the niece of the General——"

"She's no such thing, " said Doyle, "and well you know it. "

"The doctor has it put out about her that she is, " said Moriarty, "andMary Ellen's well enough content. Aren't you, Mary Ellen?"

"I am surely, " said Mary Ellen. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Look here, Moriarty, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if you've got any idea intoyour head that there's a fortune either large or small coming to MaryEllen out of this business you're making a big mistake. "

"I wasn't thinking any such thing, " said Moriarty. "Don't I know wellenough it's only talk?"

"It will be as much as we can possibly do, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to payfor the statue and the incidental expenses. Pensioning off Mary Ellenafterwards is simply out of the question. "

"Let alone that she doesn't deserve a pension, " said Doyle, "andwouldn't get one if we were wading up to our knees in sovereigns. "

"So you may put it out of your head that Mary Ellen will make a penny byit, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"It wasn't that I was thinking of at all, " said Moriarty, "for I knowyou couldn't do it. My notion—what I was saying to Mary Ellen a minuteago—is that if the Lord-Lieutenant was to be told—at the time that he'dbe looking at the statue—whenever that might be—that Mary Ellen was theniece of the General——"

"If you're planning out a regular court presentation for Mary Ellen, "said Dr. O'Grady, "the thing can't be done. No one here is in a positionto present anyone else because we have none of us been presentedourselves. Besides, it wouldn't be the least use to her if she waspresented. The Lord-Lieutenant wouldn't take her on as an upperhousemaid or anything of that sort merely because she'd been presentedto him as General John Regan's niece. "

"It wasn't a situation for Mary Ellen I was thinking of, " said Moriarty. 

"In the name of God, " said Doyle, "will you tell us what it is you havein your mind?"

"What I was thinking, " said Moriarty, "was that if the matter wasrepresented to the Lord-Lieutenant in a proper manner—-about Mary Ellenbeing the General's niece and all to that—he might, maybe, see his wayto making me a sergeant. It was that I was saying to you, Mary Ellen, wasn't it, now?"

"It was, " said Mary Ellen. 

"The idea of trotting out Mary Ellen on the occasion isn't at all a badone, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I'll see what can be done about it. "

"I'm obliged to you, " said Moriarty. 

"But I don't promise that you'll be made a sergeant, mind that now. "

"Sure I know you couldn't promise that, " said Moriarty. "But you'll dothe best you can. Come along now, Mary Ellen. It's pretty near time forme to be going on patrol, and the sergeant will check me if I'm late. "

"There's something in that idea of Moriarty's, " said Dr. O'Grady, whenhe and Doyle were alone again. 

"I don't see what good will come of it, " said Doyle, "and I'm doubtingwhether Thady Gallagher will be pleased. Mary Ellen's mother was acousin of his own. "

"She's a good-looking girl, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If we had her cleaned upa bit and a nice dress put on her she'd look rather well standing at thefoot of the statue. I expect the Lord-Lieutenant would be pleased to seeher. "

"And who'd be getting the lunch for the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Doyle, "when Mary Ellen would be playing herself?"

"We'll get someone to manage the lunch all right. The great thing forus is to be sure of making a good general impression on theLord-Lieutenant, and I think Mary Ellen would help. I daresay you'venever noticed it, Doyle—it would be hard for you when she will not washher face—but she really is a good-looking girl. The Lord-Lieutenant willwant something of the sort to look at after he's faced Mrs. Ford and herilluminated address. She's not exactly—-"

"The man that would run away with that one, " said Doyle vindictively, "would do it in the dark if he did it at all. "

"Besides, " said Dr. O'Grady, "we ought to think of poor little MaryEllen herself. It'll be a great day for her, and she'll enjoy having anew dress. "

"Who's to pay for the dress?" said Doyle. 

"The dress will be paid for out of the general funds. I'll ask Mrs. Gregg to see about having it made. She has remarkably good taste. I'lltell her not to get anything very expensive, so you need not worry aboutthat. And now, Doyle, unless there's anything else you want tosettle with me at once, I think I'll write our invitation to theLord-Lieutenant. "

"It would be well if you did, " said Doyle, "so as we'd know whether he'scoming or not. "

"Oh, he'll come. If he boggles at it at all I'll go up to Dublin and seehim myself. A short verbal explanation—— We'll let him choose his owndate. "

Doyle lit his pipe and walked back to the hotel. He found ThadyGallagher waiting for him in his private room. 

"What's this I'm after hearing, " said Gallagher, "about theLord-Lieutenant?"

"He's coming down here, " said Doyle, "to open the new statue. "

He spoke firmly, for he detected a note of displeasure in the tone inwhich Thady Gallagher asked this question. 

"I don't know, " said Gallagher, "would I be altogether in favour ofthat. "

"And why not? Mustn't there be someone to open it? And mightn't it aswell be him as another?"

"It might not as well be him. "

"Speak out, Thady, what have you against the man?"

"I'm a good Nationalist, " said Gallagher, "and I always was, and myfather before me was the same. "

"I'm that myself, " said Doyle. 

"And I'm opposed to flunkeyism, whether it's the flunkeyism of the rentoffice or———"

"Well and if you are, isn't it the same with all of us?"

"What I say is this, " said Gallagher, "as long as the people of Irelandis denied the inalienable right of managing their own affairs I'd beopposed to welcoming into our midst the emissaries of Dublin Castle, andI'd like to know, so I would, what the people of this locality will besaying to the man that's false to his principles and goes back on thedearest aspirations of our hearts?"

He glared quite fiercely while he spoke, but Doyle remained serenelyunimpressed. 

"Talk sense now, Thady, " he said. "Nobody'll say a word without it'd beyourself and you making a speech at the time. It's for the good of thetown that we're getting him down here. "

"What good?" said Gallagher, "tell me that now. What good will come ofthe like?"

Doyle was unwilling to confide the whole pier scheme to Gallagher. Hecontented himself with a vague reply. 

"There's many a thing, " he said, "that would be for the good of thetown that might be got if it was represented properly to theLord-Lieutenant. "

"If I thought that, " said Gallagher, "I might——"

He was in a difficult position. He did not want to quarrel with Doyle, who provided him with a good deal of bottled porter, but he did notwant to identify himself with a public welcome to the Lord-Lieutenant, because he had hopes of becoming a Member of Parliament. The idea ofconferring a benefit on the town attracted him as offering a way out ofhis difficulty. 

"I might———" he repeated slowly. "I wouldn't say but it's possible thatI might. "

"And you will, " said Doyle soothingly, "you will. "

"I'll not be a party to any address of welcome from the Urban DistrictCouncil, " said Gallagher. 

"We wouldn't ask it of you. Doesn't everybody know that you wouldn'tconsent to it?"

"It's the Major put you up to it, " said Gallagher. 

"It was not then. "

"If it wasn't him it was Mr. Ford, the R. M. "

"If you'd seen Mrs. Ford when she heard of it, " said Doyle, "youwouldn't be saying that. Tell me this now, Thady. Have you your speechready for the meeting on Tuesday? Everybody's saying you'll be making agrand one. "

"I haven't it what you'd call rightly ready, " said Gallagher, "but Ihave it so as it will be ready when the time comes. "

"It's you the people will be wanting to hear, " said Doyle. "It's youthey'd rather be listening to than any other one even if he was a memberof Parliament: It's my opinion, Thady, and there's more than me thatsays it—it's my opinion there's better men that isn't in Parliament thansome that is. I'll say no more presently; but some day I'll be doingmore than say it. "

CHAPTER X

The public meeting was a very great success, in spite of the absenceof the Members of Parliament, who certainly gave poor value for theirsalaries. The town band, headed by young Kerrigan, who played thecornet, paraded the streets for half-an-hour before the meeting. Itplayed "The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond" three times over, "TheBoys of Wexford" twice, and "God Save Ireland" four times. This servedto remind the people that something of an interesting and patriotic kindwas going to happen. A band is much more effective in attracting publicattention than a town crier, and it ought, one may suppose, to arrange akind of code of tunes by means of which people would be able to tellat once without verbal inquiry what sort of event was intended. For anauction of household furniture, for instance, a thing which takes placewhen a family leaves the locality, the band might play "The Harpthat Once Through Tara's Halls. " Everybody would recognise theappropriateness of the words about the banquet hall deserted, and thedeparture of the people who had used it. For the other kind of auction, that at which the cows of men who refuse to pay their rents are sold, "God Save Ireland, " would be suitable, and anyone who heard it wouldknow that though he might attend the auction he had better not bid. Aningenious musician would have no difficulty in finding tunes which wouldsuggest the presentation of illuminated addresses to curates or bankmanagers. Meetings convened for the purpose of expressing confidencein the Members of Parliament, of either the Nationalist or the Unionistparties, would naturally be announced by a performance of Handel's finesong "Angels ever Bright and Fair. " There might be a difficulty aboutunusual events like the erection of statues, but a tune might be keptfor them which would at all events warn people not to expect an auction, a presentation or a political meeting. 

Nearly half the people who were doing business in the fair assembledat three o'clock in the square outside Doyle's hotel. According to theestimate printed afterwards in the Connacht Eagle there were more thantwo thousand persons present. Of these at least twenty listened to allthe speeches that were made. The number of those who heard parts of someof the speeches was much larger, amounting probably to sixty, for therewas a good deal of coming and going, of moving in and out of the groupround the speakers. The rest of the audience stood about in variousparts of the square. Men talked to each other on the interestingquestions of the price of cattle and the prospects of a change in theweather. Women stood together with parcels in their hands and looked ateach other without talking at all. But everyone was so far interestedin the speeches as to join in the cheers when anything which ought tobe cheered was said. The twenty stalwart listeners who stood out all thespeeches attended to what was said and started the cheers at the propermoments. The stragglers who, hearing only a sentence or two now andthen, were liable to miss points, took up the cheers which werestarted. The mass of the men, those who were talking about cattle, verycourteously stopped their conversations and joined in whenever theyheard a cheer beginning. There was, so Gallagher said in the next issueof the Connacht Eagle, an unmistakable and most impressive popularenthusiasm for General John Regan. 

Father McCormack, standing on a chair borrowed from Doyle's Hotel, opened the proceedings. He said that Ireland had always been famed forits hospitality to strangers and its courtesy to women. He hoped that italways would be. Looking round on the faces of the men gathered in frontof him, he felt quite certain that it always would be. Mr. Billing, who was to address the meeting that day, was a stranger, a verydistinguished stranger, one whose name was a household word whereverthe deeds of General John Regan were remembered, one whose name would bestill better known when his forthcoming life of the General appeared. Hewas proud and pleased to extend to Mr. Billing on behalf of the audiencea hearty Caed Mille Failthe. He hoped that Mr. Billing would carry backwith him a pleasant recollection of Irish hospitality when he returnedto—

Here Father McCormack hesitated and looked round. Dr. O'Grady, whowas standing behind him whispered the word "Bolivia. " Father McCormackrepeated the word "Bolivia" aloud and everybody cheered. FatherMcCormack moistened his lips and went on to say that Mr. Billing was nota woman, but Irish courtesy, though always extended to women, was notconfined to women. In the name of the audience he promised Mr. Billingsome Irish courtesy. 

A further reference to Mr. Billing's literary work gave Father McCormackan opportunity of warning his audience against Sunday newspaperspublished in England, which, he said, reeked of the gutter and werehorribly subversive of faith and morals. Ireland, he added, hadnewspapers of her own which no one need be ashamed or afraid to read. As an evidence of the confidence he felt in the elevating characterof Irish newspapers he called upon Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, thedistinguished editor of the Connacht Eagle, to address the meeting. Thenwith the assistance of Dr. O'Grady, he stepped off the chair. Havingreached the ground safely he sat down on the chair. He had a perfectright to do this because he was chairman of the meeting; but a slightdelay followed. Another chair had to be brought from the hotel forGallagher to stand on. 

Gallagher's speech was an eloquent paraphrase of the leading articlewhich Dr. O'Grady had written for him the previous week. Once or twicehe broke away from his original and said some very good things about theland question and Home Rule. But he always got back to Emmet, O'Connell, or one of the other patriots mentioned by Dr. O'Grady. Now and then, ina very loud tone, he said the name of General John Regan. Whenever hedid so the audience was greatly pleased. He ended by announcing thenames of the gentlemen who were to form "The Statue Committee. " FatherMcCormack came first on the list. Mr. Billing was second. Major Kent, Dr. O'Grady, Doyle and Gallagher himself made up the number. He saidthat it was unnecessary for him to say anything about the fitness ofthese gentlemen for the high and responsible position to which they werebeing elected by the unanimous voice of their fellow countrymen. 

Gallagher descended from his perch, but he was not allowed to sit down. He wanted to, because sitting down is a far more dignified way of endinga speech than slouching into the background. It was Doyle who interferedwith him. 

"Get up out of that, Thady, " he said. "Don't you know the chair's wantedfor the American gentleman? How is he to make a speech if you don't givehim something to stand on?"

Gallagher, who had not actually succeeded in sitting down, left hischair with a protest. 

"It would suit you better to be getting another chair, " he said. 

"It would not, " said Doyle. "Would you have all the chairs that's in itbrought out to the street?"

Mr. Billing stood up and smiled pleasantly. Father McCormack'sexhortation had its effect. More than forty people gathered to hearwhat the stranger had to say. This was courtesy. The hospitality, itwas presumed, had already been shown by Doyle. Gallagher, who stillhad hopes of finding out something about General John Regan, and Dr. O'Grady, who was equally anxious to hear the speech, leaned forwardeagerly. Father McCormack crossed his legs and settled himself ascomfortably as possible in his chair. 

Mr. Billing proved a disappointment as a speaker. The substance of whathe said was quite admirable, but he only spoke for five minutes. Now anaudience, even if it is not listening and does not want to listen, isapt to complain that it is treated with a want of respect if a speakergives it no more than five minutes. 

"I reckon, " said Mr. Billing, "that what's required of me is not oratorybut dollars. "

This was true but nude. In Ireland we have a sure instinct in suchmatters, and we know that the nude is never decent. We like everything, especially Truth, to have clothes on. 

"Five hundred dollars is the amount that I'm prepared to hand over toyour treasurer. As I understand, gentlemen, your doctor has securedthe services of the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland to unveil the statue. We don't figure much on fancy titles on our side, but I guess it'sdifferent here, and your doctor is a smart man. I may not see thatLord-Lieutenant, gentlemen, and I may not see the statue. I shall beresearching in the principal libraries of the continent of Europe fordocuments bearing on the life of the great general. Whether I am here ornot will depend on the date which that Lord-Lieutenant and your doctorfix up between them. But I'll be along for the occasion if I can. "

The first sentence of Mr. Billing's speech was indecently nude. Theremainder of it was offensively bald. There was once an elderly andcantankerous farm labourer who complained that he could not hearthe curate when he preached. He was on the next occasion set in theforefront of the congregation and the curate spoke directly intohis ear. The old man was unable to say that he did not hear, buthe maintained an aggrieved attitude. "I heard him, " he complainedafterwards, "but what good was it to me? What I want is to have theGospel druv well home to my soul. " The feeling of most audiences is verymuch the same as his was. Unadorned statements of fact, or what is meantto be taken as fact, do not satisfy them. They like to have something, fact or fiction, driven thunderously home into their souls. The onlyone of Mr. Billing's hearers who was thoroughly well satisfied with hisspeech was Doyle. The statement that five hundred dollars were tobe handed over to him was, in his judgment, of more value than manyresonant periods. 

But the Irish courtesy, praised by Father McCor-mack, prevailed againstthe general feeling of disappointment. When Mr. Billing ceased speakingthere was a moment of doubtful silence. No one quite realised that hehad really stopped. He had indeed descended from his chair, and, exceptfor the top of his head, was invisible to most of the audience. Buteveryone expected him to get up again and start fresh. It seemed quiteincredible that a public speaker, with an audience ready found for him, could possibly throw away a valuable opportunity and content himselfwith a simple five minutes of plain talk. It was not until FatherMcCormack rose from his chair with a sigh and began to make his waytowards his presbytery that the people understood that the meeting wasreally at an end. Then they cheered quite heartily. Mr. Billing crossedthe square and walked over towards the hotel. He smiled and nodded rightand left as he went. An outburst of cheering pursued him through thedoor. 

Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty had stood during the speeches ina quiet corner near their barrack. When Father McCormack went home andMr. Billing entered the hotel, they marched with great dignity up anddown through the people. They looked as if they expected someone tostart a riot It is the duty of the police in Ireland on all occasions ofpublic meetings to look as if there might be a riot, and as if they arequite prepared to quell it when it breaks out. It is in this way thatthey justify their existence as a large armed force. 

Occasionally Sergeant Colgan spoke a word of kindly advice to anyone wholooked as if he had drunk more than two bottles of porter. 

"It would be as well for you, Patsy, " he would say, "to be getting alonghome. "

Or, "I'm thinking, Timothy John, that you'd be better this minute if youwere at home. "

There are no stronger believers in the value of the domestic hearth thanthe police. They always want everyone to go home. 

No one, least of all the individuals who received the advice personally, was inclined to leave the square. The meeting might be over, but therewas still hope that young Kerrigan would muster the town band again andplay "The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond" once or twice more. Hedid not do so, but the waiting people were rewarded for their patienceby two events of some interest. Mr. Gregg came out of the barrack andcrossed the square rapidly. He caught Dr. O'Grady and Major Kent just asthey were turning to follow Mr. Billing into the hotel. Mr. Gregg was inuniform, and the determined way in which he took Dr. O'Grady by the armwould have made most people uncomfortable. It is not pleasant, evenif your conscience is quite clear, to be grabbed suddenly by a policeofficer in the middle of the street. But Dr. O'Grady did not seem tomind. He went, though not very willingly, with Mr. Gregg into the policebarrack. Major Kent followed them. Several men, perhaps a dozen, driftedacross the square towards the barrack door. They had some hope offinding out what Mr. Gregg wanted with the doctor. They were not, however, given the opportunity of peering through the barrack windows. Sergeant Colgan saw them in good time and dispersed them at once. 

"Get along home now out of that, " he said, "every one of yez. "

Then another event of great interest occurred. Mr. Billing backed hislarge motor-car along the lane which led from Doyle's back yard, andemerged into the square. There the car growled angrily while he shiftedthe levers and twisted the steering wheel. The people scattered thisway and that while the machine, darting backwards and forwards, wasgradually turned round. A splendid burst of cheering pursued him when hefinally sped down the street and disappeared. It was understood by thosewho heard his speech that he had gone off at more than twenty milesan hour to ransack the great European libraries for information aboutGeneral John Regan. Everyone felt that the splendid eagerness of hisdeparture reflected a glory on Ballymoy. 

Mr. Gregg led Dr. O'Grady and Major Kent into his office. He shut thedoor, offered his two guests chairs, and then lit a cigarette. 

"It's rather an awkward business, " he said, "and perhaps I oughtn't tosay anything about it. "

"If it hasn't anything to do with me personally, " said the Major, "Ithink I'll leave you and the doctor to settle it together. I want to gethome as soon as I can. "

"Well, it does affect you more or less, " said Mr. Gregg. "But of courseyou'll regard anything I say to you now as strictly confidential. "

"Out with it, Gregg, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I know by the look in youreye that you can't possibly keep it to yourself, whatever it is. You'resimply bursting to tell it, whatever it is, whether we promise to keepit secret or not. "

"All the same, " said Gregg, "it wouldn't suit my book to have itgenerally known that I told you. It wouldn't suit at all. That fellowFord is a vindictive sort of beast. "

"Oh, it's Ford, is it?" said Dr. O'Grady. "I was afraid he might turnnasty. What an ass he is! Why can't he see that we're giving him thechance of his life?"

"He's doing his best to put a spoke in your wheel, O'Grady. "

"Has he got anything against the statue?"

"Not exactly the statue. "

"Or found out anything discreditable about the General?"

The doctor asked this question a little anxiously. 

"No, " said Gregg, "I don't think he knows a thing about the General. Heasked me this morning who he was. "

"Look here, O'Grady, " said the Major. "You'd far better drop this wholebusiness. What's the good of going on with it? A joke's a joke allright, but there's no use pushing things too far. "

"What Ford's trying to do, " said Gregg, "is to crab the Lord-Lieutenantpart of the business. I thought I'd better tell you, so that you'd knowexactly how things stand. "

"You've not told me much, so far, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What's Ford'sparticular line?"

"I expect he has more than one card up his sleeve, " said Gregg, "butwhat he said to me this morning was that you couldn't possibly have theLord-Lieutenant down here for any kind of public function unless——"

"Can't I?" said Dr. O'Grady. "As it just happens I have a letter inmy pocket this minute——. It came by the midday post, just before themeeting, and I haven't shown it to anyone yet. He's coming this dayfortnight, and will unveil the statue with the greatest pleasure. "

"That settles it, " said the Major, "you'll have to drop it now, whetheryou want to or not. You can't possibly have a statue ready by this dayfortnight. "

"Ford's point, " said Gregg—"and there's something in it, you know—isthat the Lord-Lieutenant can't attend a public function unless 'God Savethe King' is played when he arrives. He simply must have that tune onaccount of his position. That's what Ford says, anyhow. And I'm inclinedto think he's right. It always is played, I know. "

"Well, " said Dr. O'Grady, "we'll play it. "

"You can't, " said the Major. "If you attempt to get the town band toplay 'God Save the King'——"

"I don't think you can really, " said Gregg. "I know you have a lot ofinfluence with these fellows, but that blackguard Gallagher would gettheir backs up and——"

"There'll be a riot, " said the Major. 

"There'll be no riot whatever, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if the thing'smanaged properly. "

"It's your affair, of course, " said Gregg, "but I don't particularlywant to have you going about under police protection, and that'swhat you'll be doing if Thady Gallagher catches you corrupting thenationalist principles of the people of Ballymoy by teaching the townband to play 'God Save the King. '"

This threat seemed to produce a certain effect on Dr. O'Grady. He satsilent for nearly a minute. Then he asked Gregg for a cigarette, lit it, and smoked thoughtfully. 

"I say, Gregg, " he said at last. "How many people are there in Ballymoy, do you think, who would recognise 'God Save the King' if it was playedsuddenly when they weren't expecting it?"

"Oh, lots, " said Gregg, "lots. "

"You would, I suppose, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and the Major would. Fordwould, I suppose. Father McCormack might. What about your police?"

"The sergeant might think it was 'Auld Lang Syne, '" said Gregg, "he hasno ear whatever. But Moriarty would know it the minute he heard it. "

"Moriarty might be made to keep his mouth shut, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Youcould threaten him. "

"Your idea, " said Gregg, "is to spring it on the town band under someother name and have it played as if——"

"I'd tell them that it was one of Moore's Melodies. "

"No good, " said Gregg. "Far too many people know it. Even if you shut upMoriarty in a cell between this and then——"

"The thing for you to do, O'Grady, " said the Major bitterly, "is to geta version of 'God Save the King 'with variations. I once heard 'Home, Sweet Home, ' done that way and it was all I could do to make out whattune it was meant to be. "

"That's probably meant to be sarcastic, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but it's notat all a bad idea. I've heard 'Home Sweet Home' done that way and Iknow exactly how it goes. 'Tum—tum——tiddle—adle—diddle—tum—tum—twee— Midpleasures and palaces—Tiddle—tiddle—tum—tiddle—rat—a ti—tee— too—thoughwe may roam. ' Just as you think that you're going to recognise the tuneit kind of fades away and you're left with the impression that smalldogs are chasing each other up and down the piano. I don't see whysomething of the same kind mightn't be done with 'God Save the King, 'The Lord-Lieutenant would be quite satisfied, because he'd think we werealways just going to begin and probably come to the conclusion in theend it was the fault of the band that the tune never quite came off. Onthe other hand Gallagher, whatever suspicions he might have, couldn'tpossibly swear that we were playing anything objectionable. I wonderif there's a version of 'God Save the King' with variations to be gotanywhere?"

"Never heard of one, " said Gregg. 

"I'll write to-night, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If there isn't such a thing Imight work one up myself. It can't be very difficult. "

"That will be just what's wanted, " said the Major, "to ensure thesuccess of the day. A musical composition of yours, O'Grady, playedby our own town band, will be quite likely to distract theLord-Lieutenant's attention from the fact that here's no statue here forhim to unveil. "

"You won't mind my using your piano, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Ihaven't got one of my own, and I'll have to strum it out for a bitbefore I get it into shape for the band. "

"It'll be a score off Ford, " said Gregg, "if you succeed. But I don'texpect you will. "

CHAPTER XI

Inflexible determination is one of the qualities which the truly greatleader of men shares with the domestic pig; though in the case of thepig it is generally spoken of as obstinacy. But the leader—General, Prime Minister or Captain of Industry—is distinguished from the pig bya certain intellectual suppleness which makes his obstinacy a moreeffective though less showy thing. The pig, being determined to go hisown way, has no better idea than to tug desperately against the ropewhich is tied round his ankle. He tugs unwaveringly up to the verylast moment, but in the end he is beaten because his master, having atcommand stout sticks and other instruments of torture, is strongerthan he is. It is noble and heroic of the pig to persist in refusingto recognise that merely tugging the opposite way is no use to him. Thegreat commander is wiser and in reality no less noble. He realises veryearly that destiny, armed with whips and goads, has a rope round hisleg. He tugs, but when he finds that the rope will not break andthat the whip cuts cruelly, he stops tugging and goes about to outwitdestiny. Pretending to yield to the pull of the rope, he succeeds atlast in getting his own way. Thus a general, faced by a hostile army, securely entrenched on the opposite bank of a deep river, does notmake more than one attempt to swim his men across in the face of aconcentrated rifle fire. The pig would make several attempts, would goon trying until he had no soldiers left, because he would feel thatthe only thing really worth doing was to assert himself against theconfident foe. But the general, when he has lost enough men to convincehim of the impossibility of a frontal attack by swimming, stops tryingit and adopts another plan. He sees not only the insolent flags whichwave upon the opposite bank, but the far off end of the campaign. He isnot less determined than the pig would be to chastise the foe which isthwarting him, but he sees that this can be done quite as effectuallyby occupying the enemy's capital as by the mere winning of a battle. Heunderstands that it is good to sacrifice the immediate for the sake ofthe ultimate object. He gives up the idea of fighting his way across andsends out scouts to discover the source of the river. When he findsit he leaves part of his army to watch the enemy while the otherpart marches round the end of the river and enters the enemy's chiefstronghold from the back. Thus he gains his object and establishes hischaracter for determination without losing half his army. 

Dr. Lucius O'Grady was a born leader of men. He discovered very soonthat in the matter of the performance of "God Save the King" by thetown band, fate had a rope round his leg and was likely to scourge himuncomfortably if he pulled against it. The introduction of variationsinto the tune proved to be a much more difficult matter than he hadsupposed. He worked hard for six hours on Major Kent's piano, andproduced two versions of which he thought well, though neither of themcompletely satisfied him. He sent for Constable Moriarty and played themover to him. Moriarty sat and listened to the first. 

"Would you know what that tune was, Moriarty?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I would, of course. Anybody would. I don't say but there's bits in itthat isn't right, but you have the tune safe enough. "

"Would Thady Gallagher know it?"

"He would, " said Moriarty, "and what's more he'd be lepping mad whenhe heard it. And you couldn't wonder. You wouldn't like it yourself, doctor, if somebody was to play a tune at you that you hated worse noryou hate the devil. "

Dr. O'Grady was disappointed. 

"Are you sure now, " he said, "that he wouldn't be taken in by thevariations? I don't know whether you quite realise the number ofvariations there are? Just listen to me again. "

He played his composition through once more, touching the notes whichgave the tune very softly, hammering hard at the long runs and fierygroups of semi-quavers which he had sandwiched in between the scraps oftune. 

"I wouldn't say, " said Moriarty, "that you've destroyed it altogether;though it's my opinion that it's better the way it was before you setyour hand to it. But anyhow you needn't be uneasy. There isn't a man, woman or child that ever heard the tune but would know what you'reaiming at. "

Dr. O'Grady felt that Moriarty's judgment in the matter was too decisiveand confident to be ignored. 

"Very well, " he said. "Now listen to this. "

He played through the second of his two compositions. 

"Now, " he said, "what tune is that, Moriarty?"

Moriarty scratched his head and looked inquiringly at the doctor. 

"Is it what tune is that that you're asking me?" he said. 

"Exactly. What tune is it?"

"It's no tune at all, " said Moriarty. 

"Do you mean to say you don't recognise it?"

"I do not, and what's more nobody could. For there's no tune in it, onlynoise. "

The doctor hesitated. Moriarty's opinion was in one respect quitesatisfactory. Neither Gallagher nor anyone else in Ballymoy waslikely to recognise the tune. It might, of course, fail to impressthe Lord-Lieutenant as being quite the proper thing. But that was adifficulty which could be got over. The Lord-Lieutenant was not likelyto listen very attentively, and if he were told definitely that the bandwas playing "God Save the King" he might possibly believe it. 

"I'm thinking, " said Dr. O'Grady, "of teaching that piece of music tothe town band. "

"It'll fail you to do that, " said Moriarty. 

"I don't see why. "

"You can try it, " said Moriarty, "but you'll not be able. Anything thosefellows could play, I'd be able to whistle, and if it's what I couldn'twhistle they'll not be able to play it. "

"You could whistle that all right if you tried. "

"I could not. Nor I couldn't play it on an ivy leaf, nor yet on a comb, and if I couldn't there's nobody else could. I'm not saying it isn'tgood music, doctor, for it may be. But there's neither beginning nor endof it, nor there isn't anything in the middle that a man would be ableto catch hold of. "

Dr. O'Grady shut the piano with a bang. Constable Moriarty rose from hisseat. 

"If there's nothing more you'll be wanting with me, doctor, " hesaid, "it might be as well if I was getting back to the barrack. Thesergeant's terrible particular these times. Mr. Gregg, the D. I. , hashim annoyed with finding fault here and there and everywhere. Not thatI blame Mr. Gregg, for everybody knows he's a nice quiet kind of a manwho'd ask for nothing only to be let alone. But that's what he can't geton account of Mr. Ford. "

"Mr. Ford's a public nuisance, " said Dr. O'Grady; "but I think we'll beable to get rid of him. "

"It would be no great harm if he was dead, " said Moriarty. 

"The Lord-Lieutenant, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is almost sure to promote him. That kind of man who never can let other people's business alone, isjust suited to Dublin Castle. "

Moriarty got as far as the door of the room and then stopped. 

"Will it be all right, " he said, "about Mary Ellen? You'll remember, doctor, that I was speaking to you about her, the way she'd be given thechance of speaking to the Lord-Lieutenant. "

"I'll settle about her at once, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Did you say you weregoing straight back to the barrack?"

"I am, " said Moriarty. "It'll be better for me if I do on account of theway Mr. Ford does be talking to——"

"Are you going so straight that you won't see Mary Ellen on the way?"

"It could be, " said Moriarty, "that I might see her. "

"Very well, then, do. And tell her to meet me at Mrs. Gregg's houseat——" He glanced at his watch. 

"Let me see, it's nearly half past two, and I'll have to spend a fewminutes pacifying the Major. Suppose you tell her to meet me at Mrs. Gregg's at a quarter past three. Will you be sure to give her thatmessage?"

"I will, " said Moriarty. 

"And don't you keep the girl late now, Moriarty, with love making in thepig-stye or any nonsense of that kind. "

"Is it likely I would?"

"It is very likely. But don't do it. "

"It is not likely then, seeing as how I ought to be back in the barrackthis minute on account of the way Mr. Gregg has the sergeant annoyed——"

"There's only one thing worse than keeping Mary Ellen late, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and that is delaying me. Be off with you at once. "

Constable Moriarty marched off towards the barrack, fully determined tocall on Mary Ellen on the way. Dr. O'Grady went into the stable yard tolook for Major Kent. He found him smoking a pipe and reading the lastnumber of the Connacht Eagle in an empty loose box. 

"I thought you'd like to know, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that I've finishedwith the piano, so you can go back into the house again. "

"Quite sure you're finished?" said the Major. 

"Quite. "

"Because if there are any final touches to put to your oratorio, you'dbetter do them to-day. The piano won't be there to-morrow. I've made upmy mind to sell it at once. "

"Silly thing to do, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You won't get half what it'sworth if you sell it in a hurry like that. "

"Even if I have to pay someone to take it away, " said the Major, "Ishall make a good bargain. It's better to lose a little money than tospend the rest of my life in a lunatic asylum. "

"You know your own business best, of course, and if you think you canpreserve what little intelligence you have by giving Thady Gallagher orsome other fellow a present of your piano—"

"I think I can save myself from being turned into a gibbering maniac, "said the Major, "by making sure that you'll never have the chance ofcomposing music in my house again. Since eight o'clock this morningyou've been at it. I could hear you whenever I went, mixing up hymnsand waltzes and things with 'God Save the King. ' I tried to get a bit oflunch at half past one, but I had to fly from the house. "

"It's over now anyhow, " said Dr. O'Grady. "And you needn't sell thepiano. I've given up the idea of producing a new version of that tunefor the Lord-Lieutenant. I find that the thing can't be done in thetime. I'm going to give him 'Rule Britannia' instead. "

"With variations?"

"No. Quite plain. It'll do him just as well as the other. In fact fromhis point of view it's rather the more patriotic tune of the two, andthere won't be any local objection to it because nobody can possiblyrecognise it. "

It was in this way that Dr. O'Grady showed the true greatness of hismind. A weaker man, daunted by the difficulty of arranging "God Savethe King" in such a way as to suit all tastes, might have given up theattempt to provide a musical welcome for the Lord-Lieutenant. A man ofnarrow obstinacy, the kind of man who is really like a pig, would havepersevered, in spite of Constable Moriarty's warning, in trying to teachhis variations to the town band. Dr. O'Grady, knowing that the mainthing was the success of his general scheme, turned from a tune whichpresented insuperable difficulties, and fixed upon another, which would, he hoped, be comparatively easy to manage. The Major ought to haveadmired him; but did not He was in a condition of extreme nervousexasperation which rendered him unfit to admire anything. 

"You'll get us all into an infernal mess with your foolery, " he saidsulkily, "and when you do, you needn't come to me to help you out. "

"I won't. But don't forget the committee meeting to-morrow morning. Halfpast eleven, in Doyle's Hotel. "

"What committee?"

"Strictly speaking, " said Dr. O'Grady, "it's two committees—the StatueErection Committee and the Lord-Lieutenant Reception Committee—but thesame people are on both, so we may as well make one meeting do. "

"I'll go, " said the Major, "in the hope, utterly vain of course, ofkeeping you from further excesses. "

"Good, " said Dr. O'Grady. "And now I must hurry off. I've a lot to dobetween this and then. "

Major Kent was a kind-hearted man. He had suffered intensely during theearlier part of the day and for some hours had been seriously angrywith Dr. O'Grady. But his sense of hospitality was stronger than hisresentment. 

"Stop for half an hour, " he said, "and have something to eat Now thatyou've given up punishing my poor old piano we might have lunch inpeace. "

"Can't possibly waste time in eating. I've far too much to do. To tellyou the truth, Major, I don't expect to sit down to a square meal untilI join the Lord-Lieutenant's luncheon party. Till then I must snatch acrust as I can while running from one thing to another. "

Dr. O'Grady mounted his bicycle and hurried off. He reached the Greggs'house at twenty minutes past three, Mary Ellen was standing on the stepoutside the door, smiling in a good-humoured way. Mrs. Gregg, who lookedhot and puzzled, was just inside the door. 

"Oh, Dr. O'Grady, " she said, "I'm so glad you've come. This girl won'tgo away and I can't make out what she wants. "

"It was Constable Moriarty bid me come, " said Mary Ellen. 

"It's all right, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I arranged for her to be here. I'llexplain everything in one moment. Is that the only frock you own, MaryEllen?"

"It is not; but I have another along with it. "

"I don't expect the other is much better, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Just lookat that dress, will you, Mrs. Gregg?"

Mrs. Gregg looked at Mary Ellen's clothes carefully. She did not appearto admire them much. 

"There's a long tear in the skirt, " she said. "It might be mended, ofcourse, but—and she has only one button on her blouse, and her boots arepretty well worn out, and she's horribly dirty all over. "

"In fact, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you couldn't very well present her to theLord-Lieutenant as she is at present. "

"The Lord-Lieutenant!" said Mrs. Gregg. 

"Perhaps I forgot to mention, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that Mary Ellen mustbe presented. She's the grand niece of General John Regan. "

"Are you really?" said Mrs. Gregg. 

"It's what the doctor has put out about me, " said Mary Ellen. 

"It isn't a matter of what I've put out or haven't put out, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Mr. Billing has publicly acknowledged her as the grand nieceof the General. Didn't he, Mary Ellen?"

"He did, " said Mary Ellen. 

"And Mr. Billing is the greatest living authority on everythingconnected with the General. So that settles it. Under thosecircumstances she must, of course, be presented to the Lord-Lieutenantwhen he comes down to unveil the statue. "

"I wonder what Mrs. Ford will say?" said Mrs. Gregg. 

"We'll talk about that afterwards. What I want to get at now is this:Will you undertake to see that Mary Ellen is properly dressed for theceremony?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. "

Mrs. Gregg looked at Mary Ellen again as she spoke, looked at her verycarefully and then smiled. 

Mary Ellen was also smiling. The proper dressing of Mary Ellenwas plainly a very difficult task. Mrs. Gregg's smile was at firstcontemptuous. Mary Ellen's, on the other hand, was purely good-natured, and therefore very attractive, Mrs. Gregg began to relent. 

"Won't you come in?" she said to Dr. O'Grady. 

"Certainly, " he replied. "Mary Ellen, you sit down on that chair in thehall and wait till we call you. "

"I don't know can I wait, " said Mary Ellen. 

"If Moriarty's lurking about for you, " said Dr. O'Grady, "let him wait. It'll do him good. It's a great mistake for you to make yourself toocheap. No girl ought to. Moriarty will think a great deal more of you inthe end if you keep him waiting every day for half an hour or so. "

"It's not him I'm thinking of, " said Mary Ellen, "but it's Mr. Doyle. "

Dr. O'Grady took no notice of this remark. He did not believe that MaryEllen was very much afraid of Mr. Doyle. He followed Mrs. Gregg into thedining-room. Mary Ellen sat down. 

"She really is rather a pretty girl, " said Mrs. Gregg. 

"Then you'll undertake the job, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You won't haveto pay for anything, you know. We'll charge whatever you like to buyagainst the statue fund. "

Mrs. Gregg did not appear to be listening. She was thinking deeply. 

"I have an old silk slip, " she said, "which might be made down. "

"Capital! A silk slip will be the very thing. "

Dr. O'Grady had no idea what a silk slip might be. But his enthusiasticwelcome of the suggestion passed unnoticed. Mrs. Gregg was stillthinking. 

"I could get a white muslin, " she said, "with an embroidered yoke and awide collar. It wouldn't cost very much. "

"We'd like the thing done well, " said Dr. O'Grady, "not extravagantly, of course, but well. "

"Shell look quite sweet, " said Mrs. Gregg; "but what will Mrs. Fordsay?"

"She'll have to be kept in a good temper. "

"Kept!" said Mrs. Gregg, giggling delightedly. 

She was very much afraid of Mrs. Ford, but she found a fearful joy inentering into a conspiracy against her with Dr. O'Grady for ally. 

"Kept!" she repeated, "but she never is. "

"My idea, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is that you should dress Mary Ellenyourself, according to your own ideas, and at the same time consult withMrs. Ford, giving her the impression that she's doing the whole thingherself. I should think you ought to be able to manage that. "

This did not seem to Mrs. Gregg a very easy thing to do. She hesitated. 

"I'm afraid I couldn't, " she said at last. "I don't see how I could. "

"All that's required, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is a little tact. You arealways good at tact, Mrs. Gregg. I'm perfectly certain that you'll beable to manage. You must suggest each garment you intend to put on thegirl in such a way that Mrs. Ford will think that she suggested it. That ought to be easy enough. " Everybody likes being credited with thepossession of tact. This is curious, because hardly anyone likes beingcalled a liar; and yet tact is simply a delicate form of lying. So, ofcourse, is politeness of every kind, and nobody considers it wrong toaim at being polite. Mrs. Gregg, who would certainly have resented anaccusation of habitual untruthfulness, felt flattered when Dr. O'Gradysaid she was tactful. She even believed him and allowed herself to bepersuaded to undertake the management of Mrs. Ford. 

"Good, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Then I'll leave the whole business in yourhands. I have to be off. But you've no time to lose. You'll have to setabout your work at once. I'll send Mary Ellen to you as I go throughthe hall. You can measure her, and then take her over to see Mrs. Ford. After that you'd better order the new dress. If there's any hitch in theproceedings you can send for me, but I don't see why there should be. "

He shook hands with Mrs. Gregg and hurried from the room, withoutgiving her the chance of making any kind of protest or asking any morequestions. 

He found Mary Ellen seated on an uncomfortable oak chair in the hall. 

"Mary Ellen, " he said, "would you like a new dress?"

"I would. "

"Then go into the dining-room—the room I've just come out of. You'llfind Mrs. Gregg there. Do exactly what she tells you without makingany objections or asking questions. If she insists on your washingyour face, wash it, without grumbling. If Moriarty is waiting for youanywhere between this and the town—— Is Moriarty waiting for you?"

"He might. "

"Well, if he is, I'll clear him out of the way. You'll be going into thetown in a few minutes with Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Gregg. It wouldn't do atall to have him making eyes at you from the side of the road when you'rewalking with those two ladies. Mrs. Gregg mightn't mind; but Mrs. Fordwould be certain to object. She's not the kind of lady who likes to seeother people enjoying themselves. "

"He wouldn't do the like, " said Mary Ellen. 

"I wouldn't trust him, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

Moriarty was, in fact, waiting for Mary Ellen about a hundred yards fromthe gate of the Greggs' house. Dr. O'Grady rebuked him sharply. Moriartyasserted that he was engaged in patrolling that particular road insimple obedience to the call of duty. 

"That may possibly be true, " said Dr. O'Grady, "though it doesn't soundlikely. "

"It was the sergeant gave me my orders, " said Moriarty. 

"Patrol some other road, then, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You're not wantedhere. "

"What the sergeant said was that it would be better for me to patrolalong between Mr. Gregg's house and Mr. Ford's, so that if either theone or the other of them was to see me he'd know that I was patrolling. I wouldn't say a word against Mr. Gregg, who's a nice gentleman enough, and easy pleased. But it's hard to pacify Mr. Ford, and the sergeantthought——"

"I can tell you this, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that if Mrs. Ford catches youlying in wait for Mary Ellen on the road outside her house, it will be ajolly sight harder to pacify Mr. Ford than it was before. Surely you canunderstand that. "

Moriarty understood it thoroughly. He was not very well pleased, but hewas a young man of considerable prudence, and was filled with a sinceredesire to rise in his profession. He spent the rest of the afternoon inpatrolling a road at the other end of Ballymoy. 

Dr. O'Grady hurried on. His next stop was at the door of Kerrigan'sshop. The elder Kerrigan was leaning against the wooden slab on which hewas accustomed to cut up joints. He was smoking a pipe. 

"Where's your son?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He's within in the back yard, " said Kerrigan. 

"Tell him I want to see him. "

"I'm not sure can he come to you; for he's taking the skin off a sheepthat he's just after slaughtering. "

"Let him wash his hands, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The sheep can wait. "

"I'm not sure will he come, " said Kerrigan. "He's not overly muchpleased with you this minute, doctor, and that's the truth. "

"What's the matter with him?"

"It's on account of your saying that he was thinking of getting marriedto Mary Ellen. "

"It was Gallagher said that. I'd nothing to do with it one way or theother. "

"I wouldn't be minding myself what you said, " said Kerrigan, "knowingwell that you wouldn't be meaning any harm, whatever it was; though thegirl's no match for him, and I wouldn't care for him to be carrying onwith her, when it's a girl with a fortune he ought to get, and what'smore, can get, whenever I choose to ask for her. But I wouldn't pay anyattention to what was put out about him and Mary Ellen. I'm only tellingyou so as you'd know why it is that the boy's mind is riz against you. "

"What nonsense! Everybody in the place knows that it's ConstableMoriarty who's after the girl. "

"It's just that that's troubling the boy. On account of ConstableMoriarty being a comrade of his; so that he wouldn't like him to bethinking—— But sure, I'll fetch him for you, if you like. "

Young Kerrigan appeared a few minutes later. His father did not comeback with him. He may have felt it necessary, in the interests of hisbusiness, to go on skinning the sheep. It was evident at once that theyoung man was in a bad temper, but Dr. O'Grady did not mean to wastetime in explanations if he could possibly help it. 

"Listen to me, Kerrigan, " he said, "do you know this tune?"

He whistled "Rule Britannia" slowly and distinctly. 

"I do not know it, " said young Kerrigan, "nor I don't want to. "

Dr. O'Grady whistled it through again. 

"It's a good tune, " he said. "It would be a nice one for the band tolearn. "

"It would not. "

"What's the matter with you?" said Dr. O'Grady. "To look at theexpression of your face anybody'd think that the sheep in the back yardhad been skinning you. "

"You know well what's the matter with me. "

"If you're nursing a grievance, " said Dr. O'Grady, "because ThadyGallagher told the American gentleman that you were married to MaryEllen and had twins, you ought to have more sense. "

It is always very difficult to remain in a bad temper with anyone whoinsists on being pleasant and cheerful. Young Kerrigan began to giveway. He grinned unwillingly. 

"That's the first I heard of twins, " he said. 

"And he only said it to please the American gentleman, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Nobody believed him. "

"Sure I know well enough, " said young Kerrigan, "that there has to belies told to the likes of that one. How else would you content them? Iwouldn't mind myself what was said, knowing it was meant for the best, only that Constable Moriarty——"

"Moriarty doesn't mind a bit, " said Dr. O'Grady; "so if it's only hisfeelings you're thinking of, you may just as well listen to this tune. "

He whistled "Rule Britannia" through once more. He threw great spiritinto the last few bars. 

"It's a good tune enough, " said young Kerrigan. 

"Could the band learn it?"

"It could, of course, if so be that I had the tune right on the cornet. It would be a queer thing if I couldn't incense the rest of them intodoing what had to be done with the other instruments. "

"I can't play the cornet myself, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but I'll whistlethe tune to you as often as you like, or if you prefer it we might getthe loan of a piano somewhere, and I'll play it for you. I can't borrowthe Major's again for reasons which I'm not in a position to explain toyou, but we can easily get the use of another if you think it would helpyou. "

"The whistling will do, " said young Kerrigan. "Will you come inside withme now and I'll try can I get it. But, doctor——"

He hesitated and looked doubtfully at Dr. O'Grady. It was plain that hehad a favour to ask and was a little afraid of asking it. 

"Well, " said Dr. O'Grady encouragingly. 

"If so be that you were to see Moriarty——" said young Kerrigan. 

Then he hesitated again. 

"I see far too much of him, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I'd be obliged to you if you'd tell him that I never looked next nornigh Mary Ellen, nor wouldn't. Even if I wanted the girl I wouldn't gobehind Moriarty's back to get her; and I don't want her. "

"I'll make that perfectly plain to him. Come along now and learn thetune. "

CHAPTER XII

The cornet is of all instruments in an ordinary band the one whichproduces the most penetrating sounds. While young Kerrigan waspractising a new tune on it all the inhabitants of the town of Bally-moywere able to hear him. He was aware of this and sorry for it. He didnot, indeed, pity his fellow-citizens. He would not have understood acomplaint made by a nervous person who found himself tortured by a longseries of efforts to get a note in the middle of a tune right. It wouldhave struck him as mere affectation if anyone had objected to hearingthe same tune with the same gasping wheeze in the middle of it playedover a hundred or a hundred and fifty times in one evening. YoungKerrigan's dislike of the necessary publicity of his practising wassimilar to that which other artists feel when members of the publicbreak in and see their work in an incomplete condition. He liked hismusic to be appreciated. He felt that acknowledgment of the stages bywhich it came to its ultimate perfection was likely to diminish itsglory. But he had no place in which he could practise except the backyard of his father's house, and that, unfortunately, was in the verymiddle of the town. 

In order to get out of his difficulty young Kerrigan adopted the planof learning new tunes only in autumn and winter, when strong gales wereblowing. On a calm summer evening every note of the cornet, whetherright or wrong, was heard. Even the sounds which were not quite notesbut only painful grunts penetrated open windows and doors. But whena storm was raging most of the notes were blown away, and onlyoccasionally, when there happened to be a lull, did anybody except youngKerrigan himself hear anything. The plan worked out very satisfactorily. Amid the rush and clatter of a tempest people took no notice of suchstray wailings of the cornet as reached their ears. But, like manyexcellent plans, this one was liable to break down in emergencies. Itbroke down badly when Dr. O'Grady insisted that the band should learn"Rule Britannia" in the middle of August. 

Young Kerrigan readily got a grip on the tune. He could whistle it andhum it quite correctly after he had heard it six or seven times. Butto reproduce it on the cornet required practise, and the weather wasremarkably calm and fine. Kerrigan, in spite of his dislike of beingheard, was obliged to devote the evening to it after the doctor lefthim. Next morning he went at it again, beginning at about eleveno'clock. He got on very well up to the point at which the words declarethat "Britons never, never, never shall be slaves. " The notes which wentto the "nevers" were particularly troublesome. He tried them slowly, one by one, leaving a short interval between them. He tried them fast, running them into each other. He tried beginning the tune again aftereach mistake, in hope of getting over his difficulty, as a bicyclistsometimes gets up a hill, by running. He was a man of patientdisposition, and he was still working hard at one o'clock. 

Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher spent the morning transcribing shorthand notesin his office. There had been a singularly interesting meeting ofthe County Council the day before in the neighbouring town of Dunbeg. Gallagher had written down every word of an acrimonious debate. Hewanted to publish a verbatim report of it. As a rule noise of any kindaffected him very little, and at first he took no notice whateverof young Kerrigan's cornet. But the continual repetition of the tunegradually beat it into his brain. He found his pencil moving across thepaper in a series of short staccato bounds every time young Kerrigan gotto "Never, never, never. " He became by degrees vaguely uneasy. The tunewas one which he had certainly heard before. He could not remember wherehe had heard it. He could not remember what it was. But he became moreand more sure that it was connected in his mind with some unpleasantassociations. At last he found it impossible to go on with his work. Themost passionate invective of the most furious of the County Councillorsfailed to move him to any interest. He glanced at his watch. It was justone o'clock. The meeting of the Reception Committee was to take placeat half-past one. Gallagher felt that he had just time to investigatethoroughly the disagreeable tune. He got up and left his office. 

Constable Moriarty was standing at the door of the barrack listening toyoung Kerrigan. Being himself a musician, he appreciated the difficultyof playing "Rule Britannia" on a cornet, and enjoyed hearing youngKerrigan's efforts. When he saw Gallagher come out of his office he wasgreatly pleased, and showed his feeling by grinning broadly. Gallaghersaw the grin, and his suspicion that the tune was an offensive onedeepened at once. He crossed the road. 

"What's that, " he said, "that young Kerrigan's playing?"

"It's a new tune, " said Moriarty, "and it's hoped that the town bandwill learn it. "

"Where did he get it?"

"I'm after hearing, " said Moriarty, "that it was the doctor taught it tohim. But I don't know is that true. You can't believe the half of whatyou hear in this town. "

"What tune is it?"

"I don't know that I could put a name to it this minute; but there'sno need for you to be uneasy, Mr. Gallagher. It's not what you think itis. "

"I'm not thinking about it at all, " said Gallagher, very untruthfully. 

"I'm glad of that, " said Moriarty. "I was afraid from the look of you asyou came out of the office that you might be thinking it was 'God Savethe King. ' But it's not. "

"I was thinking no such thing, for young Kerrigan knows and the doctorknows, and you know yourself, Constable Moriarty, that the people ofthis town is all good Nationalists, and that if the tune you're afternaming was to be played in the streets——"

"It's not it, anyway, " said Moriarty, "so you may make your mind easy. "

Gallagher's mind was very far from being easy, but he saw that he wasnot likely to get any more information out of Constable Moriarty. Hecrossed the road and entered the hotel. Doyle was in the commercial roomtrying to induce Mary Ellen to sweep the floor. It was in the commercialroom that the meeting of the Committee was to be held that afternoon. Doyle wanted some, if not all, of the dirt removed from the floorbeforehand. 

"What tune's that young Kerrigan's playing?" said Gallagher. 

"I don't know, " said Doyle. "I've more to do than to be listening totunes. Mary Ellen, can you not see that there's three corks out ofporter bottles underneath the table? Will you take them out of it now, like a good girl?"

"I'm not satisfied in my mind about that tune, " said Gallagher. 

"What harm is there in it?"

"I don't know yet is there any harm, but I don't like it, and I'd beglad if I knew what tune it is. I have it in my mind that it's a tunethat ought not to be played. "

"Mary Ellen, " said Doyle, "what tune is it that young Kerrigan'splaying?"

"How would I know?" said Mary Ellen. 

"Well, put down that sweeping brush, " said Doyle. "For all the goodyou're doing with it you might as well never have taken it up. I neverseen such a girl. Put it down now and run across to Constable Moriarty, who's standing at the door of the barrack——"

"I'd be ashamed, " said Mary Ellen, "so I would. "

"If you're not ashamed of the state this room's in, " said Doyle, "itwould take more than Moriarty to shame you. Run along now, when you'rebid, and ask him what tune it is that Kerrigan's playing. "

Mary Ellen, who hoped that the interruption might put an end to thesweeping once for all, left the room. 

"If there's one in the town that knows the tune, " said Doyle, "it'll beMoriarty. I'd say myself that he must know pretty near every tune thereis in the world. "

"He might tell her, " said Gallagher, "or he might not. I was talking tohim this minute and he wouldn't tell me. "

"He'll tell Mary Ellen, " said Doyle. "He's always after that girl, andit's my belief he'll tell her anything that she'd ask him. There's somethat's took that way. Foolishness I call it. "

"It's the way he wouldn't tell me when I asked him, " said Gallagher, "that and the grin on his face when he saw me that has me sure thatthere's some insult intended to the people of this town with that tune. It's what I wouldn't stand, and the doctor and the rest of them may maketheir minds up to it. It's what I won't stand is to have tunes playedhere that is against the political convictions of the people. "

"Who'd do the like?" said Doyle soothingly. 

"What I say is this, " said Gallagher, "if there's no reason to beashamed of the tune, let them say out boldly what tune it is. I have itin the back of my mind that I've heard that tune before now, and it'snot the kind of tune that decent men would be listening to. "

"Have sense, can't you, Thady. There's nobody wanting to annoy you. "

"There may not be, " said Gallagher, "but there's more than one in thistown that's the enemies of the Irish people and would be glad to seethe cup of freedom dashed from the lips of the men that have spent theirlives in the struggle for Home Rule and that has it now as good as got. "

"Have sense, " said Doyle, but he spoke without real energy or muchpurpose. He had little hope that Gallagher, once embarked on aperoration, would stop until he had used up all the words at hiscommand. He was quite right in his reading of his friend's character. Gallagher went on:

"It isn't the declared enemies of the people that we'd be afraid of, "he said. "We'll meet them in the open field as we've always met them andthey'll fly before the spectacle of a united people as they've alwaysfled, the tyrants of other days, the blood-sucking landlords——"

"God help the poor Major, " said Doyle. 

"But the traitors within the camp, " said Gallagher, "the men that isoccupying positions in the gift of the people of Ireland, that's takingour pay, and at the same time plotting contrivances for the heaping ofinsults on the dearest convictions of our hearts——"

Mary Ellen entered the room while Gallagher was speaking. Bewildered bythe splendour of his eloquence she stopped short just inside the doorand gazed at him with her mouth open. Doyle took advantage of a slighthesitation in Gallagher's oration to speak to her. 

"What tune is it, Mary Ellen?" he said. 

"I couldn't rightly say, " said Mary Ellen. 

"Didn't I tell you, " said Gallagher, "that there was underhand workgoing on?"

"What tune did Moriarty say it was?" said Doyle. 

"He said it was a tune the doctor is after teaching young Kerrigan, "said Mary Ellen. 

"What did I tell you?" said Gallagher. "Maybe you'll believe me now. "

"The best thing for you to do, Thady. " said Doyle, "if you're dead seton finding out about that tune is to go and ask young Kerrigan what itis. The boy's a decent boy, and he'll tell you if you speak civil tohim. "

"I'll do that same, " said Gallagher, "and if I discover——"

"You'd better be quick about it then, " said Doyle, "for the committeeis to meet at half after one and I wouldn't like you'd miss theproceedings. "

"Come along with me, " said Gallagher. "I wish you to hear the way I meanto talk to young Kerrigan. "

Doyle did not want to listen to Gallagher browbeating young Kerrigan, but he realised that he would save time and a long argument if he wentat once. He made a last appeal to Mary Ellen to collect at least thecorks which were on the floor. Then he went out with Gallagher. In theporch of the hotel they met Major Kent who was a scrupulously punctualman, on his way to the committee meeting. 

"You're a bit early, Major, " said Doyle. "But if you'll step into thecommercial room you won't have long to wait. Thady and I have to crossthe street on a matter of business but we'll be back in less than fiveminutes. The doctor might be here any time and I see Father McCormackcoming along from the presbytery. "

Doyle was unduly optimistic. He was not back in five minutes. He didnot, indeed, get back for nearly half an hour. 

Kerrigan, very red in the face, and rather exhausted, was stillblowing vigorously into his cornet when Gallagher and Doyle entered theback-yard. Gallagher went straight to business without wasting any timeon preliminary politeness. 

"Will you stop that blasted noise, " he said. 

Kerrigan took the cornet from his lips and gazed at Gallagher in extremesurprise. 

"Speak civil to the boy, " said Doyle. 

"What tune is that?" said Gallagher. 

"What Mr. Gallagher's meaning to say, " said Doyle, "is that party tunesis unsuitable to this locality where the people has always lived inpeace and harmony, Protestant and Catholic together, and respected oneanother. That's what Mr. Gallagher means, and if Constable Moriartydidn't annoy him it's what he'd say. "

"It's a tune the doctor taught me, " said young Kerrigan, "and it's afine tune, so it is. "

"What's the name of it?" said Gallagher. 

"That, " said young Kerrigan, "is what I was meaning to ask the doctornext time he happened to be passing but if you're in a hurry to know, Mr. Gallagher, you can ask him yourself. It's likely you'll be seeinghim before I do. "

Young Kerrigan's words were perfectly civil; but there was a look inhis eyes which Gallagher did not like and the tone in which he spokesuggested that he meant to be impudent. 

"I'll take no back talk from you, " said Gallagher. "What tune is it?"

"I don't know what tune it is, " said Kerrigan. 

"You're a liar, " said Gallagher. "You know well what tune it is. "

"Speak civil now, Thady, " said Doyle, "speak civil to the boy. "

"I may be a liar, " said Kerrigan, "but it's the truth I told you thisminute. And liar or no liar it's the truth I'll speak now, when I tellyou that I'm not near as damned a liar as yourself, Mr. Gallagher. Sothere's for you. What do you mean by telling the American gentleman thatI was married to Mary Ellen and her with twins? Was that a lie now orwas it not? Twins! Cock the like of that one up with twins! If I'm aliar I'd tell more sensible lies than that. "

"Whisht, now, whisht, " said Doyle. "Sure if Mr. Gallagher said that, isn't the girl a cousin of his own, and hadn't he the best right to sayit?"

"Come along out of this, " said Gallagher. 

"The sooner you're gone the better I'll be pleased, " said Kerrigan. 

"And let me tell you this, Mr. Kerrigan, junior. You'll be sorry forthis day's work for the longest day ever you live. When the League boyshear, and they will hear, about the tune that you mean to play——"

"Come along now, Thady, " said Doyle. "Come along. You've enough said. We're late for the meeting of the committee already, and we'll be lateryet if you don't come on. You wouldn't like to keep Father McCormackwaiting on you. "

"I've had enough of your committee, " said Gallagher. "What's your statueonly foolishness?"

"Sure everybody knows that, " said Doyle. 

"And what's your Lord-Lieutenant only——"

"Come on, now, " said Doyle, "isn't it for the benefit of the town we'redoing it? And it's yourself that's always to the fore when there's goodwork to be done. "

"I will not go with you, " said Gallagher. 

They had passed through Kerrigan's shop and reached the street, whenGallagher delivered this ultimatum. Doyle hesitated. He was already latefor the committee meeting. If he waited to coax Gallagher out of his badtemper he might miss the meeting altogether. He looked at the door ofthe hotel. Father McCormack was standing at it, waiting, perhaps, forhim and Gallagher. 

"Come now, Thady, " he said, "have sense. Don't you see Father McCormackwaiting for you?"

"I see him, " said Gallagher. 

"And don't you know well enough that you'll have no luck if you goagainst the clergy?"

The appeal was a strong one, and had he been in any ordinary temperGallagher would have yielded to it at once. But he was veryangry indeed, far too angry to be influenced by purely religiousconsiderations. He walked straight across the square to his office, entered it, and slammed the door behind him. Doyle followed him asfar as the threshold. There he stopped and looked round. He saw FatherMcCormack go into the hotel. A minute later Mrs. Gregg hurried downthe street and went into the hotel. Doyle sighed heavily and enteredGallagher's office. Difficult and unpleasant as his task was likely tobe, he felt that he must propitiate Thady Gallagher. 

"Thady, " he said, "is there a drop of anything to drink in the place?"

"There is not, " said Gallagher, "nor I wouldn't drink it if there was. "

This confirmed Doyle's view of the extreme seriousness of the situation. That Gallagher should be prepared to defy the clergy was bad enough. That he should adopt an ascetic's attitude towards drink was worse. ButDoyle did not quite believe that Gallagher meant what he said. He openeda door at the far end of the office and whistled loudly. A small boy whohad been cleaning type in the printing-room, appeared, rubbing his inkyhands on his trousers. 

"Michael Antony, " said Doyle, "will you step across to the hotel andtell Mary Ellen to give you the bottle of whisky that she'll find in thecupboard in my own room? If you can't find Mary Ellen—and it's hardlyever she is to be found when she's wanted—you can fetch the bottleyourself. If you don't know the way to my room you ought to. "

Michael Antony, who was very well accustomed to errands of this kind, went off at once. Doyle glanced at Gallagher, who appeared to beabsorbed in completing the transcription of his shorthand notes, thetask at which he had been interrupted in the morning by young Kerrigan'scornet playing. He seemed to be very busy. Doyle got up and left theroom, went into the kitchen which lay beyond the printing-room, andreturned with two tumblers and a jug of water. Gallagher looked up fromhis writing for an instant. Doyle noticed with pleasure the expressionof violent anger was fading from his eyes. Michael Antony, who was abrisk and willing boy, returned with a bottle rather more than half fullof whisky. 

"Mary Ellen was upstairs along with a lady, " he said. "But I found thebottle. "

"If you were three years older, " said Doyle, "I'd give you a drop foryour trouble. But it wouldn't be good for you, Michael Antony, and yourmother wouldn't be pleased if she heard you were taking it. "

"I have the pledge since Christmas, anyway, " said Michael Antony. 

"Thady, " said Doyle, when the boy had left the room, "it's a drink youwant to quench the rage that's in you. "

Gallagher looked up from his papers. He did not say anything, butDoyle understood exactly what he would have said if his pride had notprevented him from speaking. 

"The width of two fingers in the bottom of the tumbler, " said Doyle, "with as much water on top of that as would leave you free to say thatyou weren't drinking it plain. "

The amount of water necessary to soothe Gallagher's conscience was verysmall. Doyle added it from the jug in driblets of about a teaspoonfulat a time. At the sound of the third splash Gallagher raised his hand. Doyle laid down the jug at once. Gallagher, without looking up from hispapers, stretched out his left hand and felt about until he grasped thetumbler. He raised it to his lips and took a mouthful of whisky. 

"Thady, " said Doyle, "you've no great liking for Mr. Ford. "

"I have not, " said Gallagher. "Isn't he always going against me at thePetty Sessions, he and the old Major together, and treating me as if Iwasn't a magistrate the same as the best of them?"

"He does that, and it's a crying shame, so it is, that he's allowed to;but sure that's the way things are in this country. "

Gallagher took another gulp of whisky and waited. Doyle said nothingmore. He appeared to have nothing more to say and to have mentioned Mr. Ford's name merely for the sake of making conversation. But Gallagherwished to develop the subject. 

"What about Mr. Ford?" he said, after a long silence. 

"He's terrible down on the erection of the statue to General JohnRegan. "

"I'm that myself, " said Gallagher. 

"Mr. Ford will be pleased when he hears it; for there'll be no statue ifyou set your face against it. It'll be then that Mr. Ford will be proudof himself. He'll be saying all round the Country that it was him put astop to it. "

"It will not be him that put a stop to it. "

"It's what he'll say, anyway, " said Doyle. 

Gallagher finished his whisky in two large gulps. 

"Let him, " he said. 

"Have another drop, " said Doyle. "It's doing you good. "

Gallagher pushed his tumbler across the table. Doyle replenished it. 

"I'd be sorry, " said Doyle, "if Mr. Ford was to be able to say he'd gotthe better of you, Thady, in a matter of the kind. "

"It'll not be me he'll get the better of. "

"He'll say it, " said Doyle, "and what's more there's them that willbelieve it. For they'll say, recollecting the speech you made onTuesday, that you were in favour of the statue, and that only for Mr. Ford you'd have had it. "

"If I thought that——" said Gallagher. 

"Come along over now to the committee, " said Doyle, "and we'll have thestatue just in derision of him. "

"It isn't the statue that I'm objecting to, " said Gallagher, "nor itisn't the notion of a new pier. You know that, Doyle. "

"I do, of course. "

"And if it's the wish of the people of this locality that there shouldbe a statue——"

"It is the wish, " said Doyle. "Didn't you say yourself that the peoplewas unanimous about it after the meeting in the market square?"

Gallagher rose from his chair and pushed his papers back on the table. He crushed his soft hat down on the back of his head and turned to thedoor. 

"Come on, " he said. 

"I knew well, " said Doyle, "that you'd do whatever was right in thelatter end. And as for the tune that was troubling you, it's evenmoney that the band will never play it. Father McCormack was tellingme yesterday that the big drum's broke on them on account of one of theboys giving it a kind of a slit with the point of a knife. The bandwill hardly ever be able to play that tune or any other tune when theyhaven't got a big drum. "

CHAPTER XIII

Major Kent passed through the narrow hall of the hotel, went up a flightof stairs and entered the commercial room. Mary Ellen was on her handsand knees under the table which stood in the middle of the room. Shewas collecting the corks which had offended Doyle's eye. There were morethan three of them. She had four in her left hand, and was stretchingout to grasp two more when the Major entered the room. As soon asshe saw him she abandoned the pursuit of the corks, crept out fromunderneath the table, and stood looking at the Major. She expectedhim to order a drink of some sort. Most people who entered Doyle'scommercial room ordered drinks. The Major was slightly embarrassed. MaryEllen evidently expected him to say something to her, and he did notknow what to say. He did not want a drink, and he could not think of anysubject of conversation likely to interest a tousled girl who had justbeen crawling about the floor on her hands and knees. At last he said"Good morning. " Mary Ellen gaped at him and then smiled. The Major, recollecting that it was half-past one o'clock, and therefore no longermorning, said that it was a fine evening. Mary Ellen's smile broadened. The Major expressed a polite hope that she was quite well. He thought ofshaking hands with her, and wished that he had brought a pair of gloveswith him, Mary Ellen's hands were certainly dirty and they looked hot. But he was not obliged to shake hands. Mary Ellen realised that he was akind of man new to her, one who did not want a drink. She left the room, came back again almost at once for the broom which she had forgotten, and then left decisively, slamming the door. 

The Major crossed the room and looked out of the window. He saw Doyleand Gallagher go into Kerrigan's shop, and wondered vaguely what theywanted there. He saw Constable Moriarty telling a story, evidently ofa humorous kind, to Sergeant Colgan, at the door of the police barrack. The story—he judged from Moriarty's gestures—had something to do withDoyle and Gallagher. He wondered, without much real interest, what thestory was. There was nothing else of an exciting kind to be seen fromthe window. The Major turned and walked to the opposite corner of theroom. He stood in front of a small square mahogany table. On it wasa stuffed fox in a glass case. The Major looked at it carefully fromseveral points of view. It was a very ordinary fox, and appeared tohave been stuffed a long time. Moths had eaten the fur off its back inseveral places, and one of its eyes, which were made of bright brownbeads, was hanging from the socket by a thread. The glass of the casewas exceedingly dusty. The Major, finding the fox dull and ratherdisgusting, left it and went over to the fireplace. Over the chimneypiece hung a portrait of a very self-satisfied priest who looked as ifhe had just dined well. A gold Latin cross, attached to a black ribbonwatch guard, rested gracefully on the large stomach of the man. Thestomach struck the Major as one which was usually distended to itsutmost capacity. The portrait was remarkable for that fuzziness ofoutline which seems to be inevitable in enlarged photographs. The framewas a very handsome one, elaborately carved and gilt. 

Next the picture of the priest, unframed and attached to the wall withtacks, was a large coloured supplement, taken from an American paper. It presented a famous boxer stripped to the waist in the act of shakinghands with a dejected-looking opponent. Underneath his large picture wasa list of the boxer's most famous conflicts, with date and a note ofthe number of rounds which each victim had survived. Round the centralpicture were twelve small ones, in which the hero appeared in the act offelling other fighters, not so heroic or less muscular. The Major, whohad done some boxing in his day, looked at the picture with criticalinterest. Then Father McCormack entered the room. 

"I'm in good time after all, " he said. "I was afraid, maybe, the meetingmight be over when I saw Doyle and Thady Gallagher going into the officeof the Connacht Eagle after leaving Kerrigan's shop. "

"You're time enough, " said the Major. "If you're not more thanhalf-an-hour late it's time enough for any meeting that's held in thistown. "

"That's true too, " said Father McCormack. "As a general rule that's trueenough. But I've known meetings that was over and done with before thetime when they ought to be beginning. That would be when there might besomething to be done at them that some of the members would be objectingto if they were there. I've known that happen, and I shouldn't wonder ifyou'd been caught that way yourself before now. "

"So far as I know, " said the Major, "nothing of the sort has happenedthis time. There's no reason why it should. When anything as silly asthis statue business is on hand everybody is sure to be unanimously infavour of it. "

"That's true enough. But where's the rest of the committee?"

"Nobody has turned up so far, except myself, " said the Major. 

"Well, " said Father McCormack, "I'm as well pleased. To tell you thetruth, Major, I'm glad of the chance of a few minutes quiet talk withyou while we have the place to ourselves. I thought it my duty, andyou'll understand me that I'm not casting reflections on you nor yeton the doctor, and I'd be sorry to say a word against Doyle, or for thematter of that against Thady Gallagher, though it would be better if hehad more sense. But anyway, I thought it my duty to acquaint the bishopwith what was going on. "

"The statue idea?" said the Major. "Well, what did he say? I don'tknow your bishop personally, but I suppose a man could hardly be in hisposition if he was altogether a fool. "

"Believe me or not as you like, " said Father Mc-Cormack, "but when Igot the bishop's answer to my letter, it turned out that he knew no morethan myself about General John Regan. "

"That doesn't surprise me in the least. I don't believe any one knowswho he was. "

"What the bishop said was that it might look queer if I was to take nopart in the proceedings when the Lord-Lieutenant was coming to unveilthe statue. "

"That puts you in a safe position anyhow, " said the Major. "If it turnsout afterwards that there is anything fishy about the General, thebishop and the Lord-Lieutenant will have to share the blame betweenthem. "

"What I want to know from you, " said Father Mc-Cormack, "is this: Is theLord-Lieutenant coming or is he not?"

"I've only got the doctor's word for it. He says he is. "

"The doctor's a fine man, and there's not many things he'd set hishand to but he'd carry them through at the latter end. But theLord-Lieutenant! The Lord-Lieutenant is—well now, do you think it likelythat the Lord-Lieutenant is coming down here?"

"It's not the least likely, " said the Major, "but there's nothing aboutthis whole business that is. It isn't likely in my opinion that therewas such a person as General John Regan. It wasn't likely beforehandthat we'd subscribe to put up a statue to him. I don't see that theLord-Lieutenant is any more unlikely than lots of other things that havehappened. "

"I'm glad to hear you say that, " said Father McCormack. 

He and Major Kent were standing together at the window while theytalked. Neither of them noticed that Mary Ellen had come into the room. She stood for some time near the door, hoping that either the Major orFather McCormack would look round. Neither of them did, so she sidledslowly into the room and stood beside the stuffed fox. She was a verywell mannered girl, and most unwilling to interrupt an earnest, possiblyan important conversation. When Father McCormack made his last remarkshe felt that her chance had come. It was evident from the tone in whichhe spoke, that he and the Major had reached a more or less satisfactoryconclusion of their business, She coughed, and then tapped lightly withher knuckles on the glass case of the stuffed fox. Both Father McCormackand the Major looked round. 

"There's a lady below, " said Mary Ellen. 

"A lady!" said Major Kent. "Surely to goodness we're not going to havewomen on this committee. Things are bad enough without that. "

"Who is she?" said Father Mctormack. 

"It's Mrs. Gregg, " said Mary Ellen, "and it's the doctor she's askingfor. "

"The doctor's not here, " said Father McCormack. "Can't you see that foryourself?"

"If it's Mrs. Gregg, " said the Major, "you'd better show her up. Youcan't leave her standing by herself in the hall till the doctor choosesto come. I wish to goodness he would come. I can't think why he isn'there. This is his show entirely. "

Mrs. Gregg came into the room while the Major was speaking. She lookedagitated and, in spite of the fact that she had been waiting downstairsfor nearly ten minutes, was almost breathless. 

"Oh, Major Kent, " she said, "where's Dr. O'Grady? Such a dreadful thinghas happened. I don't know what to do. Just fancy—Mrs. Ford has writtento me——"

"There's no use appealing to me, " said the Major. "I can't do anythingwith Mrs. Ford. She and I are hardly on speaking terms. It's not myfault—at least I don't think it is—but you must see Mrs. Gregg, that Ican't interfere about any letter she may have written to you. "

Mrs. Gregg shook hands with Father McCormack, but her head was turnedaway from him as she did so. She had little hope that he could interfereeffectually to settle the difficulty created by Mrs. Ford. 

"Dr. O'Grady said that I——"

The Major interrupted her. 

"You'd far better wait till the doctor comes, " he said. "He'll be herein a minute. "

"But I can't wait. Mrs. Ford is down at the dress-maker's now. It'll betoo late if I wait. What am I to do? It will spoil the whole thing ifMrs. Ford insists——"

Dr. O'Grady came in. He was whistling cheerfully, not "Rule, Britannia, "but a harmless Irish jig. 

"Hullo!" he said. "You here, Major. Good. And Father McCormack. There'snothing like punctuality. And Mrs. Gregg. How do you do, Mrs. Gregg?Everything going on all right about Mary Ellen's costume?"

"Oh, no, it isn't. But I'm so glad you've come. Mrs. Ford——"

"Excuse me one moment, Mrs. Gregg, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I just want toask Father McCormack one question. Listen now, Father McCormack. Do youknow this tune?"

He began to whistle "Rule, Britannia. " When he was about half waythrough Mrs. Gregg interrupted him. 

"I can't wait, " said Mrs. Gregg. "I really can't. Mrs. Ford is at thedressmaker's and——"

"I'll attend to that in one minute, Mrs. Gregg. But I must get FatherMcCormack's opinion on this tune first. Doyle and Gallagher may arriveat any moment, and then I shan't be able to go into the question. NowFather McCormack, do you recognise the tune I whistled you?"

"I've heard it, " said Father McCormack, "and to the best of my belief itwas at a military tournament up in Dublin last year. "

"It's 'Rule, Britannia, '" said the Major. "And if it's played in thistown there'll be a row. "

"There might be, " said Father McCormack, "if Thady Gallagher knows whattune it is. "

"He won't, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You didn't know yourself, FatherMcCormack, and if you didn't I'm quite satisfied that Thady Gallagherwon't. We can count on your keeping your mouth shut, Major, I suppose. Now, Mrs. Gregg, what has Mrs. Ford been doing?"

"She says, " said Mrs. Gregg, "that Mary Ellen is to wear a plain darkgrey tweed dress, and I had it all planned out——"

"White muslin, " said Dr. O'Grady, "with a silk slip. I remember. "

"It'd look perfectly sweet, " said Mrs. Gregg, "and I took her to thedressmaker yesterday evening just as you told me. I had the whole thingarranged. She was to have a blue sash. "

"I was, " said Mary Ellen, who was still standing beside the stuffed fox. 

"And Mrs. Ford agreed at the time, " said Mrs. Gregg, "and now I've justgot a note from her saying that a dark grey tweed would be much moresuitable because it would be useful afterwards. "

"It seems to me, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you haven't managed thisbusiness quite as tactfully as I expected you would. "

"Mrs. Ford said she was going straight to the dress-maker to order thegrey tweed. She's there now, most likely. "

Mrs. Gregg's voice had a break in it. It seemed to Dr. O'Grady that shewas on the verge of tears. He turned to Mary Ellen. 

"Which would you rather have, Mary Ellen, a white muslin frock, or agrey tweed, one that would be useful to you afterwards? Don't be in ahurry to decide. Think it well over. "

Mary Ellen seemed very well inclined to take this advice. She stoodquite silent with one of her fingers pressed against the corner of hermouth. She was thinking deeply. 

"I can't bear to have everything I settled upset by that woman, " saidMrs. Gregg. "I wish you'd never made me ask her to help. I wish I'dnever——"

"We had to keep her in a good temper, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"You'll not be able to do that, " said the Major, "nobody could. "

"It's nothing but spite makes her do it, " said Mrs. Gregg. "It's justbecause I'm presenting a bouquet and she's not. "

"Hang it all!" said Dr. O'Grady. "It can't be that. I told herdistinctly that she'd be allowed to hand over the illuminated address. What more can she want?"

"It's all spite and jealousy, " said Mrs. Gregg, "and Mary Ellen willlook perfectly hideous. "

"Mary Ellen, " said Dr. O'Grady, "have you made up your mind yet which ofthose two dresses you'd like?"

"I have, " said Mary Ellen. 

"She'd like the white muslin, of course, " said Mrs. Gregg. "No girlwould choose——"

"I'd like the both of them, " said Mary Ellen. 

"You shall have them, " said Dr. O'Grady. "That's the best way I seeout of the difficulty. Mrs. Gregg, you get the dress you want for her, privately, without saying a word about it. Agree with everything Mrs. Ford says, and let her order a red flannel petticoat if she likes. "

"But which will she wear?" said Mrs. Gregg, "for if she's to be dressedin a ridiculous stuffy grey tweed——"

"She'll wear your one, of course, " said Dr. O'Grady. "She'll put iton and stand in the middle of the square just underneath the statue. There'll be a large crowd of people, and it will be too late for Mrs. Ford to do anything. She can't change the girl's clothes in the street. "

"Don't count on any delicacy of feeling in Mrs. Ford, " said the Major. 

"And will I have the both of the dresses after?" said Mary Ellen. 

"You will, " said Dr. O'Grady, "unless Mrs. Ford manages to drag the greytweed one away from you. "

"She'll be furious, " said Mrs. Gregg. 

"She may be as furious as she likes then, " said Dr. O'Grady. "She won'tbe able to show it while the Lord-Lieutenant's wife is shaking handswith her out of the motor-car, and it won't matter to us what she doesafterwards. The only thing we have to be careful about is to keep her ina good temper——"

"You can't do that, " said the Major. 

"In as good a temper as possible between this and then. And now, Mrs. Gregg, if you'll excuse my saying so, I think you and Mary Ellen hadbetter trot off to the dressmaker. If any further difficulty arisesrefer to me at once. But I don't see how anything can. All you've got todo is to let Mrs. Ford have her own way, and give your orders when she'sgone home. "

Mrs. Gregg did not seem entirely satisfied with this settlement of herdifficulty, but she and Mary Ellen went off together to meet Mrs. Fordat the dressmaker's. 

"Women, " said Dr. O'Grady, "are the devil. "

He was not much better satisfied than Mrs. Gregg was with his new plan. He foresaw very serious difficulties in carrying it out. 

"You've no one but yourself to thank for all this bother!" said theMajor. "There wasn't the slightest necessity to have Mary Ellen in theaffair at all, dressed or undressed. "

Dr. O'Grady was not listening to a word the Major said. He was thinkingdeeply. His face lightened suddenly and he rushed across the room to thedoor. 

"Mrs. Gregg!" he shouted. "Mrs. Gregg! Just one moment. I've got acapital suggestion to make, one to which there can be no possibleobjection from any point of view. "

He ran downstairs. Father McCormack went to the door and looked afterhim. Then he turned and addressed the Major. 

"You might go a long journey, " he said, "before you'd meet the equal ofthe doctor. "

The Major received this remark in silence. He was of opinion that a manwho went a long journey in order to discover a second Dr. O'Grady wouldbe a fool. 

"Tell me this, " said Father McCormack. "What relation is Mary Ellen tothe General?"

"I've never been able to make that out for certain. Sometimes I'm toldshe's his niece, and sometimes his grand-niece. "

Father McCormack looked round him cautiously and sank his voice to awhisper. 

"Is she any relation at all?" he said slowly. 

"No more than you are to the Sultan of Turkey. "

"I was thinking as much myself, " said Father McCormack. 

Dr. O'Grady, having finished his talk with Mrs. Gregg, entered the roomagain. 

"I've settled that matter satisfactorily anyhow, " he said. "It occurredto me just after Mrs. Gregg had left the room, that some sort of fancydress for the girl would be likely to please the Lord-Lieutenant, andwould be a compromise which both ladies could accept without loss ofdignity. Mary Ellen is to be rigged out as a traditional Irish colleen, the sort you see on the picture postcards they sell to tourists inDublin. Mrs. Gregg is delighted, and Mrs. Ford can't possibly say thata crimson flannel skirt won't be useful to her afterwards. She'll lookuncommonly well, and the Lord-Lieutenant will be all the more inclinedto believe that the General was an Irishman when he sees his niece——"

"Tell me this, " said Father McCormack, "is she a niece of the General oris she not?"

"The grand-niece, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"She's neither the one nor the other, " said the Major. 

Dr. O'Grady glanced at Father McCormack. He saw by the look on thepriest's face that there was no use trying to prove Mary Ellen'srelationship. He laughed good-naturedly, and at once offered asatisfactory explanation of the position. 

"Mr. Billing, " he said, "insisted on our producing some sort of relativefor the dead General. He wouldn't have given that £100 if we hadn't. Nowwhat I say is this——"

"You'd say anything, " said the Major. 

"I'm not talking to you now, Major. I'm talking to Father McCormack, who's a man of sense, with some knowledge of the world. The way I'mputting it to him is this: Supposing there was a job going a begging, a nice comfortable job under the Government, with no particularduties attached to it, except just to look pleasant and be generallyagreeable—there are such jobs. "

"Plenty, plenty, " said Father McCormack. 

"And they're well paid, " said the Major. 

"And supposing that you were asked to nominate a man for the post——" Dr. O'Grady still addressed himself only to Father McCormack. "You mightbe, you know. In fact you, and other people in your position often are, though there's always supposed to be a competitive examination. "

"Nobody believes in examinations, " said the Major. 

"That's exactly what I'm saying, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Now what would youdo in a case of the kind? As a matter of fact what do you do? What didyou do when they were appointing a secretary to the Old-Age PensionCommittee?"

"I'd look out for some decent poor fellow, " said Father McCormack. "Onethat might be wanting something of the kind, a man that nobody wouldhave anything particular to say against. "

"You wouldn't spend a lot of time arguing about whether there ought tobe such a secretary or not?"

"I would not, of course, " said Father McCormack. "What would be the use?If the job's there and a man's wanted I'd have no business talking aboutthe rights or wrongs of it beyond saying that the salary ought to be abit larger. "

"Exactly, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Now that's just what's happened in thiscase. It isn't exactly a job, under the Government, not under ourGovernment, though it may lead on to something in Bolivia. Here's a deadGeneral that has to be fitted out with a niece——"

"You said a grand-niece a minute ago, " said the Major. 

"The principle's the same, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What I'm trying to getyou to see is that Mary Ellen may just as well step into the position asanyone else. "

"When you put it that way, " said Father McCor-mack, "there's no more tobe said. The girl's a decent girl, and I wouldn't stand in the way ofher bettering herself. "

"She'll be the better by a new dress, anyway!" said the Major. "I don'tknow that she'll benefit in any other way. But that's something. "

"I rather think, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that I hear Doyle downstairs. We'llbe able to get on with the business of the committee now, whether he hasThady with him or not. We've wasted time enough. "

"We'll waste a lot more before we've done, " said the Major. "The wholething's waste of time. There'll never be a statue in Ballymoy either toGeneral John Regan or to anyone else. "

Dr. O'Grady had drawn a bundle of papers from his pocket and laid themon the table before him. 

"Our first business, gentlemen, " he said, "is to settle about theilluminated address which Mrs. Ford has kindly consented to present tothe Lord-Lieutenant. "

Thady Gallagher glared at Dr. O'Grady savagely. He did not like beinginterrupted in the middle of a speech. 

"Order, gentlemen, order, " said Father McCor-mack, nervously tapping thetable with his pencil. 

"With regard to the illuminated address, " said Doyle, "I'm of opinionthat the carrying out of it should be given into the hands of a Dublinfirm. It's our duty to support Irish manufacture. There's too much moneysent over to England that might be far better kept at home. You'll agreewith me there, Thady. "

"What are you going to say in the address?" said the Major. 

"Oh, the usual things, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I don't think we need go intothat in detail. All addresses are pretty much the same. "

"I won't sign my name to anything political, " said the Major. 

"I'm with you there, " said Father McCormack. "It's one of the curses ofthis country the way politics are dragged into business. "

"Nobody wants politics, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The address will containnothing but nice little compliments to the Lord-Lieutenant with a wordor two about the value of piers put in at the end. "

"If the matter's left in the hands of the firm I have in mind, " saidDoyle, "it'll be done right. They've illuminated three-quarters of theaddresses that have been presented in the country, and whether it's abank manager or a priest going on a new mission, or a Lord-Lieutenantthat the address is for, the firm I mean will know what to put into it. They've had the experience, and experience is what is wanted. "

"We'll give him names and dates, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and tell him thatthis is a seaport town with no proper pier. With that information anyfool could draw up the text of an illuminated address. I propose thatthe matter be left in the hands of a subcommittee consisting of Mr. Doyle. "

"Are you all agreed on that, gentlemen?" said Father McCormack. 

Thady Gallagher rose slowly to his feet. 

"With regard to what Mr. Doyle has just laid before the meeting, " hesaid, "and speaking of the duty of supporting Irish manufacture, I'm ofopinion that his words do him credit. I'm an out and out supporter ofthe Industrial Revival, and when I look round about me on the ruinedmills that once were hives of industry, and the stream of emigrationwhich is flowing from our shores year after year———"

"I don't think we need spend much time discussing the bouquet, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It'll have to be ordered from Dublin too. "

"There's no flowers here to make a bouquet of, " said Doyle, "unless, maybe, the Major——"

"I've a few Sweet-Williams, " said the Major, "and a bed of mixed stocks. If you think they'd be any use to you you're welcome to them. "

"We might do worse, " said Father McCormack. 

"We'll have to do better, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You can't offer a lady inthe position of a Lord-Lieutenant's wife a bundle of ordinary stocks!What we have to get is lilies and roses. "

"It's only right that we should, " said Father McCormack, "but I thinkthe thanks of the meeting ought to be given to Major Kent for hisgenerous offer. "

"I second that, " said Doyle. "The Major was always a good friend toanything that might be for the benefit of the town or the locality. "

"The ordering of the bouquet, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to be left to the samesub-committee which has charge of the address. "

"And it to be sent to the hotel here, " said Father McCormack, "on themorning of the ceremony, so as it will be fresh. Are you all agreed onthat, gentlemen? What's the next business, doctor?"

"The next business is the statue. "

"What's the date of the Lord-Lieutenant's visit?" said the Major. 

"Thursday week, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"That's ten days from to-day, " said the Major. "We may just as well gohome at once as sit here talking to each other. There's no time to get astatue. "

"We'll do our business before we stir, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"What's the use of saying things like that?" said the Major. "Youknow jolly well, O'Grady, that you can't get a statue in ten days. Thething's impossible. It takes a year at least to make a statue of anysize. You can't go into a shop and buy a statue, as if it were a hat oran umbrella. "

"There's a good deal in what the Major says, " said Father McCormack. "I'm inclined to agree with him. I remember well when they were puttingup the monument to Parnell in Dublin it took them years before they hadit finished. "

"It's a good job for everybody concerned, " said the Major, "that we'rebrought up short. We'd simply have made ourselves publicly ridiculous ifwe'd gone on with this business. "

The Major, Dr. O'Grady, and Doyle, spoke when they did speak, in an easyconversational tone without rising from their chairs. But this was notGallagher's idea of the proper way of conducting public business. Hebelieved that important discussions ought to be carried on with dignity. When he spoke he stood up and addressed the committee as if he weretaking part in a political demonstration, using appropriate gestures toemphasize his words. The difficulty about the statue gave him a greatopportunity. 

"I stand here to-day, " he said, "as the representative of the people ofthis locality, and what I'm going to say now I'd say if the police spiesof Dublin Castle was standing round me taking down the words I utter. "

Young Kerrigan had been obliged to stop practising "Rule, Britannia"on the cornet in order to eat his dinner. When he had satisfied hisappetite and soothed his nerves with a pipe of tobacco he set to work atthe tune again. The hour's rest had not helped him in any way. He madeexactly the same mistake as he had been making all the morning. Ithappened that he took up his cornet again shortly before Gallagher beganhis speech in which he declared himself a representative of the peopleof the locality. The noise of the music floated through the openwindow of the committee room. It had a slightly exasperating effect onGallagher, but he went on speaking. 

"What I say is this, " he said, "and it's what I always will say. If itis the unanimous wish of the people of this locality to erect a statueto the memory of the great patriot, who is gone, then a statue ought tobe erected. If the Major is right—and he may be right—in saying that ittakes a year to make a statue, then we'll take a year. We'll take tenyears if necessary. Please God the most of us has years enough before usyet to spare that many for a good work. "

Young Kerrigan continued to break down at the "never, never, never, "part of the tune. Dr. O'Grady began to fidget nervously in his chair. 

"Sit down, Thady, " said Doyle. "Don't you know that if we postpone thestatue we'll never get the Lord-Lieutenant to open it? Didn't he say inhis letter that Thursday week was the only day he could come?"

"As for the so-called Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, " said Gallagher, waving his arm in the air, "we've done without him and the likes of himup to this, and we're well able to do without him for the future. "

He brought his fist down with tremendous force as he spoke, striking thetable with the pad of flesh underneath his little finger. Dr. O'Gradyjumped up. 

"Excuse me one moment, gentlemen, " he said. "That young fool, Kerrigan, is getting the tune wrong every time, and if I don't stop him he'llnever get it right at all. "

He walked across to the window as he spoke and looked out. Then heturned round. 

"Don't let me interfere with your speech, Thady, " he said. "I'mlistening all right, and I'm sure Father McCormack and the rest of thecommittee want to hear every word of it. "

But Gallagher, in spite of this encouragement, did not seem inclined togo on. He sat down and scowled ferociously at Doyle. Dr. O'Grady put hishead out of the window and shouted. 

"Moriarty, " he called, "Constable Moriarty, come over here for a minuteand stop grinning. "

Then he drew in his head and turned round. 

"Major, " he said, "you're a magistrate. I wish to goodness you'd giveorders that Moriarty isn't to grin in that offensive way. It's a dangerto the public peace. "

"I shan't do anything of the sort, " said the Major. "In the first placeI can't. I've no authority over the police. They are Gregg's business. In the second place——"

He stopped at this point because Dr. O'Grady was not listening tohim. He had stretched his head and shoulders out of the window and wastalking in a very loud tone to Moriarty. 

"Run over, " he said, "and tell young Kerrigan to come here to me for aminute. When you've done that go to bed or dig potatoes or do any othermortal thing except stand at the door of the barrack grinning. "

"What tune's that young Kerrigan's after playing?" said Gallaghersolemnly. 

Father McCormack looked anxiously at Major Kent. The Major fixed hiseyes on the stuffed fox in the glass case. It was Doyle who answeredGallagher. 

"It's no tune at all the way he's playing it, " he said. "Didn't you hearthe doctor saying he had it wrong?"

"What tune would it be, " said Gallagher, "if so be he had it right?"

"I told you before, " said Doyle. "I told you till I'm tired tellingyou that I don't know the name of it. It's not a tune that ever I heardbefore. "

"I'll find out what tune it is, " said Gallagher savagely. "I'll drag itout of you if I have to drag the black liver of you along with it. "

"Order, gentlemen, order, " said Father McCormack. "That's no language tobe using here. "

"I was meaning no disrespect to you, Father, " said Gallagher. "I'd bethe last man in Ireland to raise my hand against the clergy. "

"It's the doctor's liver you'll have to drag, Thady, if you drag anyliver at all, " said Doyle, "for he's the only one that knows what thetune is. "

Moriarty appeared to have conveyed the message to young Kerrigan. Dr. O'Grady, still leaning out of the window, spoke again, this timeevidently to Kerrigan. 

"Don'ts you know you're getting it wrong every time?" he said. 

Young Kerrigan's voice, faint and apologetic, reached the members of thecommittee through the window. 

"Sure I know that well enough; but the devil's in it that I can't get itright. "

"Listen to me now, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

He whistled the tune shrilly, beating time with his hand. 

"Now, Kerrigan, " he said, "try it after me. "

He whistled it again slowly. Kerrigan followed him note by note on thecornet. After a very short hesitation he got over the difficult passage. Dr. O'Grady drew in his head and returned to the table with a sigh ofrelief. 

"I think he has it now, " he said, "but it's a tough job teaching thatfellow anything. "

"What tune is it?" said Gallagher. 

"It's not a tune that ever you heard before, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I'm of opinion that I did hear it, " said Gallagher. "But let you speakout now if you're not ashamed of it, and tell me what tune it is. "

"It's the 'Battle March of King Malachi the Brave, '" said Dr. O'Grady, "the same that he played when he was driving the English out of Ireland. And you can't possibly have heard it before because the manuscript of itwas only dug up the other day at Tara, and this is the first time it'sever been played publicly in the west of Ireland. "

"There now, Thady, " said Doyle, "didn't I tell you all along that you'dnothing to do only to ask the doctor?"

"I'm of opinion that I did hear it, " said Gallagher. "You may say whatyou like about the Hill of Tara, but I've heard that tune. "

"It's just possible, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that Mr. Billing may havewhistled it while he was here. I believe the people of Bolivia are fondof it. They learned it, of course, from General John Regan. He may haveheard it from his grandmother. It's wonderful how long music survivesamong the people long after the regular professional musicians haveforgotten all about it. But I mustn't interrupt you any more, Thady. Youwere just making a speech about the Lord-Lieutenant. Perhaps you havefinished what you were saying. As well as I recollect we were justsettling about the statue. "

"Major Kent was after saying, " said Father McCor-mack, "that we couldn'tget a statue in the time. "

"My friend Mr. Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "has a proposal to lay beforethe meeting. Where's that card, Doyle, that you showed me last week?"

Doyle drew a bundle of grimy papers from his breast pocket and wentthrough them slowly. One, which appeared to be a letter written onbusiness paper, he laid on the table in front of him. At the bottom ofthe bundle he came on a large card. He handed this to Father McCormack. The printing on it was done in Curiously shaped letters, evidentlyartistic in intention, with a tendency towards the ecclesiastical. Roundthe outside of the card was a deep border of black, as if the owner ofit were in mourning for a near relative. 

Father McCormack looked at it dubiously. 

"Read it out, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I'd like the Major to hear exactlywhat's on it. "

"'Mr. Aloysius Doyle, '" read Father McCormack. 

"He's a nephew of my own, " said Doyle. 

"He would be, " said Gallagher. "If he wasn't we'd hear nothing abouthim. "

He was still feeling sore about the "Battle March of King Malachi theBrave, " and was anxious to make himself disagreeable to someone. Itstruck him that it would be easy to annoy Doyle by suggesting that hewas trying to do a good turn to his nephew at the expense of the statuefund. 

"I needn't tell you, gentlemen, " said Doyle, with great dignity, "that it's not on account of his being a nephew of my own that I'mrecommending him to the notice of this committee. If he was fifty timesmy nephew I wouldn't mention his name without I was sure that he was asgood a man as any other for the job we have on hand. "

No one, of course, believed this, but no one wanted to argue with Doyleabout it. Father McCormack went on reading from the black-edged cardwhich he held in his hand. 

"'Mortuary Sculptor, '"

"Sculptor!" said Dr. O'Grady. "You hear that, Major, don't you?Sculptors are people who make statues. "

"Mortuary sculptors, I suppose, " said the Major viciously, "make statuesof dead men. "

"The General's dead anyway, " said Doyle, "so that's suitable enough. "

"'Address—The Monumental Studio, Michael Angelo House, Great Brunswick. Street, Dublin, '" read Father McCormack. "That'll be where your nephewlives, Mr. Doyle?"

"It's where he has his works, " said Doyle. "He lives down nearSandymount. "

"'Celtic Crosses, Obelisks and every kind of Monument supplied at theshortest notice, '" said Father McCormack, still reading from thecard. "'Family Vaults decorated. Inscriptions Cut. Estimates Free. LowPrices'. "

"I don't see that we could possibly do better than that, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Even Doyle's nephew can't make a statue in ten days, " said the Major. 

"He says 'shortest notice' on his card. You ought to believe the man, Major, until you've some evidence that he's a liar. "

"I don't care what he says, " said the Major. "He can't make a statue inten days. "

"We'll get to that point in a minute, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The firstthing we have to decide is whether Mr. Aloysius Doyle is a suitable manto be entrusted with the work. "

"There's no other tenders before us, " said Father McCormack, "so Isuppose we may as well——"

"Excuse my interrupting you, Father, " said Doyle, "but before you takethe opinion of the meeting on this point, I'd like to say that I'moffering no opinion one way or the other; and what's more I won't give avote either for or against. I wouldn't like to do it in a case where myown nephew is a candidate. "

"You needn't tell us that, Mr. Doyle, " said Father McCormack. "We allknow that you're not the kind of man who'd be using his public positionto further the interests of his relatives. What do you say now, gentlemen? Is Mr. Aloysius Doyle to be given the contract for the statueor not? What do you say, Major?"

"If he can make a full-sized statue of a General in ten days, " said theMajor, "he's a man who deserves every encouragement we can give him. "

"Now, doctor, " said Father McCormack, "what's your opinion?"

"I'm for giving him the job, " said the Doctor. 

"Mr. Doyle won't vote, " said Father McCormack. 

"I will not, " said Doyle firmly. 

"So we'd be glad of your opinion, Mr. Gallagher. "

"If his price is satisfactory, " said Gallagher, "we may as well givehim the preference. I'd be in favour of supporting local talent whenpossible, and although Mr. Aloysius Doyle isn't a resident among us atpresent, his family belongs to Ballymoy. "

"Carried unanimously, " said Father McCormack. "And now about the price. What will that nephew of yours do us a statue for, Doyle? And mind you, it must be done well. "

"Before we go into that, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I'd like the committee tohear a letter which Mr. Doyle has received from his nephew. I thought itwell, considering how short the time at our disposal is——"

"Ten days, " said the Major. "Ten days to make a statue——"

"The letter which we are just going to read, " said Dr. O'Grady, "willmeet the Major's difficulty. I thought it well to get into communicationwith Mr. Aloysius Doyle at once so as to have everything ready for thecommittee. "

"I wonder you haven't the statue ready, " said the Major. 

"I wrote to him, or rather I got Doyle to write to him, the day beforeyesterday, and the letter you are now going to hear is his reply. Imay say that we laid the circumstances full before him; especially theshortness of the time. You're not the only person who thought of thatdifficulty, Major. Just read the letter, will you, Doyle?"

Doyle took up the letter which lay on the table in front of him andunfolded it. He glanced at it and then put it down and began to fumblein his pocket. 

"Go ahead, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I can't, " said Doyle. "This isn't that letter, but another onealtogether. "

He drew his packet of papers from his pocket again and began to gothrough them rapidly. There was a light tap at the door. 

"Who on earth's that?" said Dr. O'Grady. "I said specially that thismeeting was not to be disturbed. "

"Possibly Doyle's nephew, " said the Major, "with a sample statue. Heought to submit samples to us. "

"Come in whoever you are, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

Mary Ellen half opened the door and put her head into the room. Dr. O'Grady realised the moment he saw her that something must have gonewrong in the dressmaker's shop. He assumed, without enquiry, that Mrs. Ford had been making herself objectionable. 

"What has Mrs. Ford done now?" said Dr. O'Grady. "I can't go to her tillthis meeting is over. "

"Mrs. Ford's off home this half hour, " said Mary Ellen. "She said shewouldn't put up with the nonsense that was going on. "

This was a relief to Dr. O'Grady. If Mrs. Ford had gone home thedifficulty, whatever it was, must be capable of adjustment. 

"Then what on earth do you want? Surely you and Mrs. Gregg haven't beenquarrelling with each other. "

"Mrs. Gregg says——" said Mary Ellen. 

Then she paused, looked at Dr. O'Grady, looked at Doyle, and finallytook courage after a glance at Father McCormack. 

"She says, is there to be white stockings?"

"Certainly not, " said Dr. O'Grady. "White stockings would be entirelyout of place. If we're dressing you as an Irish colleen, Mary Ellen, we'll do it properly. Go and tell Mrs. Gregg that your stockings areto be green, bright green. Did you ever hear such a silly question?" headded turning to the other members of the committee. "Who ever saw anIrish colleen in white stockings?"

"While you're at it, O'Grady, " said the Major, "you'd better settle thecolour of her garters. "

Mary Ellen, grinning broadly, withdrew her head and shut the door. 

"What's that about green stockings for Mary Ellen?" said FatherMcCormack. 

"Oh, it's all right, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The stockings will scarcelyshow at all. Her dress will be right down to her ankles, longer by farthan the ones she usually wears. I needn't tell you, Father McCormack, that I wouldn't consent to dressing the girl in any way that wasn'tstrictly proper. You mustn't think——"

"I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, " said Father McCormack. 

"You very well might be, " said Dr. O'Grady, "Anyone would think weintended her to appear in a ballet skirt after that remark of theMajor's about her garters. "

"All I was thinking, " said Father McCormack, "was that if you dressedthe girl up in that style she'll never be contented again with ordinaryclothes. "

"I'd be opposed, so I would, " said Gallagher, "to anything that wouldn'tbe respectable in the case of Mary Ellen. Her mother was a cousin ofmy own, and I've a feeling for the girl. So if you or any other one, Doctor, is planning contrivances——"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Thady, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"I tell you she'll be all right. Now, Doyle, will you read us thatletter from your nephew? If we don't get on with our business we'll behere all night. "

CHAPTER XV

 "I can't find the letter high or low, " said Doyle. 

"Maybe now, " said Father McCormack, "it's not in your pocket at all. "

"It should be, " said Doyle, "for it was there I put it after showing itto the doctor here yesterday. "

"It doesn't matter, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you can tell us what he said inyour own words. "

"What I told my nephew, " said Doyle, "when I was writing to him, wasthat the committee was a bit pressed in the matter of time, owing tonext Thursday week being the only day that it was convenient forthe Lord-Lieutenant to attend for the opening of the statue. Well, gentlemen, by the height of good luck it just happens that my nephew hasa statue on hand which he thinks would do us. "

"He has what?" said the Major. 

"A statue that has been left on his hands, " said Doyle. "The way of itwas this. It was ordered by the relatives of a deceased gentleman, andit was to have been put up in St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. "

"That shows, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that it's a first rate statue. Theywouldn't let you put up anything second rate in a cathedral like that. "

"It must be a good one, surely, " said Father McCormack. 

"But when the relatives of the deceased party went into his affairs, "said Doyle, "they found he hadn't died near as well off as they thoughthe was going to; so they told my nephew that they wouldn't take thestatue and couldn't pay for it. It was pretty near finished at the time, and what my nephew says is that he could make sure of having it readyfor us by the end of this week at the latest. "

"Look here, O'Grady, " said the Major, "I'm as fond of a joke as any man;but I must draw the line somewhere. I'm hanged if I'll be mixed up inany way with a second-hand statue. "

"It's not second-hand, " said Dr. O'Grady, "it's perfectly new. At thismoment it isn't even finished; I wouldn't ask this committee to buyanything second hand. But you can surely see, Major—you do see, for youraised the point yourself, that with the very short time at our disposalwe must, if we are to have a statue at all, get one that's more or lessready made. "

"But—Good Heavens! O'Grady, " said the Major. "How can you possibly putup a statue of somebody else and call it General John Regan? It won't bethe least like him. How can you—the thing's too absurd even for you. Whowas this man that the statue was made for?"

"Who was he, Doyle?" said Dr. O'Grady. "It doesn't really matter to uswho he was; but you may as well tell the Major so as to satisfy him. "

"I disremember his name, " said Doyle, "and I can't lay my hand on theletter; but he was a Deputy-Lieutenant of whatever county he belongedto. "

"There you are now, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "A Deputy-Lieutenant!Nothing could be more respectable than that. You're only a J. P. Yourself, and I don't believe you'll ever be anything more. You can'tafford to turn up your nose at a Deputy-Lieutenant. We shan't be doingany injury to the General's reputation by allowing him to be representedby a man of high position, most likely of good family, who was at allevents supposed to be well off before he died. "

"I wasn't thinking of the General's reputation, " said the Major. "Idon't care a hang——"

"I don't see that we are bound to consider the feelings of theDeputy-Lieutenant, " said Dr. O'Grady. "After all, if a man deliberatelyleads his relatives to suppose that he is rich enough to afford a statuein a cathedral and then turns out to be too poor to pay for it, hedoesn't deserve much consideration. "

"I wouldn't cross the road, " said Doyle, "to do a good turn to a manthat let my nephew in the way that fellow did. For let me tell you, gentlemen, that statue would have been a serious loss to him if——"

"I'm not thinking of him or Doyle's nephew either, " said the Major. "I don't know who that Deputy-Lieutenant was, and I don't care if hisstatue was stuck up in every market town in Ireland. "

"If you're not thinking of the General, " said the doctor, "and if you'renot thinking of the Deputy-Lieutenant, what on earth are you grumblingabout?"

"I'm grumbling, as you call it, " said the Major, "about the utterlyintolerable absurdity of the whole thing. Can't you see it? You can ofcourse, but you won't. Look here, Father McCormack, you're a man of somesense and decency of feeling. Can we possibly ask the Lord-Lieutenant tocome here and unveil a statue of General John Regan—whoever he was—whenall we've got is a statue of some other man? Quite possibly theLord-Lieutenant may have known that Deputy-Lieutenant personally, and ifhe recognises the statue where shall we be?"

"There's something in what the Major says, " said Father McCormack. "I'llnot deny there's something in what he says. "

"There isn't, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Excuse my contradicting you flatly, Father McCormack, but there really isn't. We all know Doyle, and werespect him; but I put it to you now, Father McCormack, I put it to anymember of the committee: Is Doyle likely to have a nephew who'd be ableto make a statue that anybody would recognise?"

"There's something in that, " said Father McCormack. "I'm not well upin statues, but I've seen a few in my time, and all I can say is thatunless Doyle's nephew is a great deal better at the job than most of thefellows that makes them, nobody would know, unless they were told, whotheir statue's meant to be like. "

"My nephew's a good sculptor, " said Doyle. "If he wasn't I wouldn'thave brought his name forward to-day; but what the doctor says is trueenough. I've seen heads he's done, for mural tablets and the like, andso far as anybody recognising them for portraits of the deceased goes, you might have changed the tablets and, barring the inscriptions, nobodywould have known to the differ. Not but what they were well done, everyone of them. "

"There now, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "That pretty well disposes of yourlast objection. "

"That's only a side issue, " said the Major, speaking with a calm whichwas evidently forced. "My point is that we can't, in ordinary decency, put up a statue of one man to represent another. "

"I don't know that I altogether agree with the Major there, " said FatherMcCormack, "but there's something in what he says. "

"I can't see that there's anything, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Deputy-Lieutenants have uniforms, haven't they? So have Generals. Nobody can possibly know what the uniform of a Bolivian General wasfifty or a hundred years ago. All we could do, even if we were havingthe statue entirely made to order, would be to guess at the uniform. It's just as likely to be that of a modern Deputy-Lieutenant as anythingelse. "

"That's true of course, " said Father McCormack. 

"Anyway, " said Doyle, "if we're to have a statue at all it'll have to bethis one. There's no other for us to get, so what's the use of talking?"

The Major shrugged his shoulders helplessly. 

"There's evidently no use my talking, " he said. 

"Is it your wish then, gentlemen, " said Father McCormack, "that theoffer of Mr. Aloysius Doyle to supply a statue of General John Regan beaccepted by the committee?"

"It is, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Subject to the price being satisfactory, " said Gallagher. "We haven'theard the price yet. "

"I have the letter about the price which my nephew sent me, " said Doyle, "and I think you'll all agree with me that he's giving it cheap. "

"He ought to, " said Gallagher, "considering that if he doesn't sell itto us it's not likely he'll sell it at all. "

"The demand for second-hand statues must be small, " said the Major. 

"What he says is, " said Doyle, "that considering he's dealing with amember of his own family he'll let the statue go at no more than theprice of the raw material, not making any charge for the work he'sputting into it. I don't know that we can expect more than that fromhim. "

"You cannot, of course, " said Father McCormack. 

"Let's hear the figure, " said Gallagher. 

"I should say, " said the Major, "that £10 would be a liberal offer onour part. "

"Shut up, Major, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What do you know about the price ofstatues? You wouldn't get a plaster cast of a pet dog for £10. "

Doyle smiled amiably. 

"There's not a man in Ballymoy, " he said, "fonder of a joke than theMajor. "

"Let's hear the figure, " said Gallagher. 

"What he says, " said Doyle, "is £81. "

Major Kent whistled. 

"But I wouldn't wonder, " said Doyle, "but you could get him to knock10s. Off that and say £80 10s. "

Dr. O'Grady pulled a sheet of paper towards him and began to writerapidly. 

"Statue £80 10s. , " he said. "Carriage, say £1 10s. The railway companiesare robbers. Expenses of erection, say £2. You'll let us have any mortarand cement that are needed for nothing, Doyle; so we'll only have topay for labour. I'll superintend the erection without charging a fee. Illuminated Address, £4. Bouquet £1 is. That's a good deal to give fora bouquet, but I don't think we'll get a decent one for less. Dresses, etc. , for Mary Ellen—the green stockings will have to be orderedspecially, and so will come to a little money. And we may have to getthat grey tweed dress which Mrs. Ford wants, just to prevent her kickingup a row. Two dresses, stockings, etc. , for Mary Ellen, say £4. Thatwill include shoes with buckles. She'll have to wear an Irish brooch ofsome sort, but we'll probably be able to borrow that. Lunch for the ViceRegal party on the day of the unveiling—there'll be at least four ofthem, say five in case of accidents. That will allow for two aides decamp and a private secretary. They can't want more. The five of us andMr. Billing, who said he'd be back for the ceremony. That makes eleven. I suppose you could do us really well, Doyle, at 7s. 6d. A head, including drinks, and there'll have to be three or four bottles ofchampagne on the sideboard, just for the look of the thing. We may nothave to open more than one. Eleven times 7s. 6d. Makes £4 2s. 6d. Whatdo you mean to charge us for the printing of the posters, Gallagher?"

"I'll say £3, " said Gallagher, "to include posters and advertisements inthe paper. I'll be losing money on it. "

"You'll not be losing much, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but we'll say £3. Thatwill make—let me see——"

He added up his column of figures and then checked the result by addingthem downwards. 

"That comes to £100 3s. 6d. , " he said, "and we've not put down anythingfor postage. You'll have to get your nephew to knock another 10s. Offthe price of the statue. After all, when he said £81, he must havebeen prepared to take £80, and he'll have to cut the inscription for uswithout extra charge. "

"He might, " said Doyle, "if we approached him on the subject. "

"He'll have to, " said Dr. O'Grady, "for £100 is all we've got, and wecan't run into debt. "

"He did say, " said Doyle, "that 3d. A letter was the regular charge forcutting inscriptions. "

"We'll make it short, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We won't stick him for morethan about 10s. Over the inscription. After all long inscriptionsare vulgar. I propose that Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, as the onlyrepresentative of the press among us, be commissioned to write theinscription. "

"We couldn't have a better man, " said Father McCormack. 

"I'll not do it, " said Gallagher. He had a solid reason for refusingthe honour offered to him. The writer of an inscription at the base of astatue is almost bound to make some statement about the person whom thestatue represents. 

"You will now, Thady, " said Doyle, "and you'll do it well. "

"I will not, " said Gallagher. "Let the doctor do it himself. "

"There's no man in Connacht better fit to draw up an inscription of thekind, " said Father McCormack, "than Mr. Gallagher. "

Thady Gallagher was susceptible to flattery. He would have liked verywell to draw up an inscription for the statue, modelling it on theresolutions which he was accustomed to propose at political meetingsin favour of' Home Rule. But he was faced with what seemed to him aninsuperable difficulty. He did not know who General John Regan was. 

"Let the doctor do it, " he said reluctantly. 

"Whoever does it, " said Doyle, "it'll have to be done at once. My nephewsaid that on account of the way we are pressed for time he'd be glad ifthe words of the inscription was wired to him to-day. "

"It would, maybe, be better, " said Father McCor-mack, "if you were todo it, doctor. We'll all be sorry that the words don't come from theaccomplished pen of our respected fellow citizen, Mr. Gallagher——"

"I'll not do it, " said Gallagher, "for I wouldn't know what to say. "

"Write it out and have done with it, O'Grady, " said the Major. "What'sthe good of keeping us sitting here all day?"

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady. "After all, it's not much trouble. Howwould this do? 'General John Regan—Patriot—Soldier—Statesman—VivatBolivia'. "

"We couldn't do better, " said Father McCormack. 

"What's the meaning of the poetry at the end of it?" asked Gallagher. 

"It's not poetry, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and it doesn't mean much. It's theLatin for 'Long live Bolivia. '"

Gallagher rose to his feet. He had been obliged to confess himselfunable to write an inscription; but he was thoroughly well able to makea speech. 

"Considering, " he said, "that the town of Ballymoy is in the Province ofConnacht which is one of the provinces of Ireland, and considering theunswerving attachment through long centuries of alien oppression whichthe Irish people have shown to the cause of national independence, it'smy opinion that there should be something in the inscription, be thesame more or less, about Home Rule. What I say, and what I've alwayssaid——"

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I'll put 'Esto Perpetua, ' if you like. It's the same number of letters, and it's what Grattan said about thelast Home Rule Parliament. That ought to satisfy you, and I'm sure theMajor won't mind. "

"I'm pretty well past minding anything now, " said the Major. 

"There's no example in history, " said Gallagher, "of determined devotionto a great cause equal to that of the Irish people who have beenreturning Members of Parliament pledged to the demand which has beenmade with unfaltering tongue on the floor of the House at Westminster——"

"Get a telegraph form, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and copy out thatinscription while Thady is finishing his speech. "

"There's one other point that I'd like to mention, " said Doyle, "andit's this——"

"Wait a minute, Thady, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We'll just deal with thispoint of Doyle's and then you'll be able to go on without interruption. What is it, Doyle?"

"My nephew says, " said Doyle, "that he'd be glad of a cheque on accountfor the statue; he having been put to a good deal of out-of-pocketexpense. "

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady, "send him £25. Now go on, Thady. "

"Is it me send him £25?" said Doyle doubtfully. 

"Of course it's you. You're the treasurer. "

"But it's you has Mr. Billing's cheque, " said Doyle. 

"I haven't got Mr. Billing's cheque, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"If you haven't, " said Doyle, helplessly, "who has?"

"It's my belief, " said Gallagher, in a tone of extreme satisfaction, "that there's no cheque in it. "

"Do you mean to say, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you've been such abesotted idiot as to let that American escape out of this without payingover his subscription for the statue?"

"You'll never see him again, " said Gallagher. "He's not the first manthat skipped the country after letting everybody in. "

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, " said Father McCormack, "order, please, order. "

"We'll have to drop the whole thing now, " said the Major, "and I mustsay I'm extremely glad. "

"I'm no more an idiot than you are yourself, doctor, " said Doyle, "and Iwon't have language of the kind used to me. How was I to know he hadn'tgiven you the cheque?"

"You were the treasurer, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What on earth is atreasurer for if he doesn't get in the subscriptions?"

"That nephew of yours will have his statue on his hands a bit longer, "said Gallagher. 

He still spoke in a tone of satisfaction; but even as he contemplatedthe extreme disappointment of Doyle's nephew it occurred to him thatthere might be a difficulty about paying his own bill for £3. The samethought struck Father McCormack. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "there's been an unfortunate mistake, but it mightbe worse. "

"That American fellow has us robbed, " said Gallagher. 

"We'll prosecute him when we catch him, " said Doyle. 

"It might be worse, " said Father McCormack. "We haven't spent very muchyet. The dresses for Mary Ellen can hardly have been put in hand yet, sowe won't have to pay for them. "

"There's my bill, " said Gallagher. 

"So there's only Mr. Gallagher's little account, " said Father McCormack. 

"We'll have a house-to-house collection, " said Doyle, "till we get themoney raised. "

"Don't be a blithering idiot, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady. "How can you goround and ask people to subscribe to——"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, " said Father McCormack. 

"We must fall back upon the subscription list that was published inthe Connacht Eagle, " said the Major, "as well as I recollect we allpromised——"

"Nobody promised anything, " said Doyle. "It was Dr. O'Grady thatpromised for us and before I pay a penny for a man that owes me morethis minute than he can pay——"

"Oh, do shut up, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What's the good of rakingup the past? What we've got to do now is to find a way out of theconfounded hole we've been let into through your incompetence andcarelessness. "

"I'm down for £5, " said the Major, "and I'll consider that I'm verywell out of this business if I have to pay no more. I'd rather give fivepounds any day than stand by watching Mary Ellen and the Lord-Lieutenantmaking faces at a second-hand statue. "

"It's a handsome offer, so it is, " said Father McCormack, "and thethanks of the meeting——"

"I'll not pay a penny, " said Doyle, "and what's more, if the doctordoesn't pay me what he owes me I'll put him into the County Court. "

"It's you that'll have to pay, " said Gallagher, "whether you like it ornot. "

"I'm damned if I do, " said Doyle. 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, " said Father McCormack, "will you mind whatyou're saying? That's no language to be using, Mr. Doyle; and I don'tthink the doctor has any right—not that I mind myself what you say forI'm not particular; but if it was to get out to the ears of the generalpublic that this meeting had been conducting itself in ways that's veryfar from being reputable——"

"There's no general public here, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and that's just aswell. "

"What I'm trying to tell you, " said Father McCormack, "and what I wouldtell you if you'd listen to me, is that there's somebody knocking at thedoor of the room we're in and whoever it is must have heard every wordthat's been said this last five minutes. "

Doyle and Gallagher stopped growling at each other when the priestspoke. Dr. O'Grady sat upright in his chair and bent his head towardsthe door. There was a moment's silence in the room and a very faint, asit were an apologetic, knock was heard at the door. 

"Come in, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

Mary Ellen opened the door and looked in. She appeared to be ratherfrightened. If, as Father McCormack supposed she heard every word spokenduring the previous five minutes, she had very good reason for feelingnervous. She had a still better reason a moment later when Doyle caughtsight of her. Doyle had completely lost command of his temper. 

"Get away out of that, Mary Ellen, " he said, "and if I catch sight ofyou here again before I call for you I'll have the two ears cut off youand yourself sent home to your mother with them in a paper parcel in thewell of the car. "

Curiously enough this appalling threat seemed to cheer Mary Ellen alittle. She smiled. 

"Mrs. Gregg says——" she said. 

"If you're not outside the door and it shut after you before I've donespeaking I'll do what I've said and worse on top of that, " said Doyle. 

"I won't have Mary Ellen bullied, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It's all you'refit for, Doyle, to frighten helpless little girls. If you'd talked thatway to Billing when he was trying to run away without paying——"

"You're a nice one to talk about paying, " said Doyle. 

Dr. O'Grady left his seat and walked over lo the door. 

"What is it now, Mary Ellen?" he said. 

"Mrs. Gregg says, " she said, "will I be wearing a hat or will I not?"

"Go back to Mrs. Gregg, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and tell her that you willnot wear a hat, but you'll have your hair tied up with a green silkribbon to match your stockings. Would you like that?"

"I'd as soon have a hat, " said Mary Ellen, "and Mr. Moriarty says———"

"Surely to goodness, " said Dr. O'Grady, "he hasn't been helping to orderyour clothes!"

"He has not, " said Mary Ellen, "but he was outside the barrack and mecoming along the street——"

"He always is, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"And he said to me that it wouldn't do for me to be dressed up any wayfoolish like. "

"Let Constable Moriarty mind his own business, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Yougo back and tell Mrs. Gregg what I say. "

The other members of the committee sat listening with amazed interest toall Dr. O'Grady said to Mary Ellen. Even Doyle was too much astonishedto attempt an interruption. He said nothing till the doctor, havingdismissed Mary Ellen, returned to the table. Then he spoke. 

"And who's going to pay for the green ribbon which is to go along withthe stockings? Who's going to pay for it? That's what I'm asking you. You needn't be thinking that I will. "

"Gentlemen, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I owe you all an apology. I'm afraid Ilost my temper for a minute or two. Father McCormack, I beg your pardon, and if I said—as I fear I did say—anything disrespectful to you aschairman——"

"Don't speak another word, Doctor, " said Father McCormack, "you've saidenough. Sure anyone might have been betrayed into a strong expressionwhen he was provoked. Not that you said a word to me that you've anyreason to be sorry for. "

"Major Kent, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if I've in any way insulted you——"

"Not worse than usual, " said Major Kent. "I'm quite accustomed to it. "

"Mr. Doyle, " said the doctor, "I'm afraid that in the heat of the momentI may have—but I can do no more than ask your pardon———"

"I don't care a thraneen, " said Doyle, "what you called me, and I'llgive you leave to call me that and more every day of the week if you seeyour way to get the £100 out of the American gentleman. "

"I can't do that, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but I have a proposal to laybefore the meeting which I think will get us out of our difficulty. "

CHAPTER XVI

 "Let you speak out, " said Doyle, "and if so be that you're not asking us to pay up——"

"I think we may take it for granted, gentlemen, " said Dr. O'Grady, "thatif we produce a creditable statue for the Lord-Lieutenant to unveil andgive him a really gratifying illuminated address——"

"The statue and the illuminated address would be all right, " said Doyle, "if there was any way of paying for them. "

"And a bouquet, " said Dr. O'Grady; "and a good luncheon. If we do allthat and make ourselves generally agreeable by means of Mary Ellen andin other ways the Lord-Lieutenant couldn't very well refuse to give us agrant of Government money to build a pier. "

"It's likely he'd give it, " said Father McCormack, "it's likely enoughthat he'd give it—if we——"

"He couldn't well not, " said Doyle, "after us giving him a lunch andall. "

"If so be, " said Gallagher, "that he was to refuse at the latter endwe'd have questions asked about him in Parliament; and believe you methat's what he wouldn't like. Them fellows is terrible afraid of theIrish Members. And they've a good right to be, for devil the finer setof men you'd see anywhere than what they are. There isn't a thinggoes wrong in the country but they're ready to torment the life out ofwhoever might be responsible for the man that did it. "

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Now do we want a pier?"

"We want the money, " said Doyle. 

"I don't know, " said Father McCormack, "could we get the money withoutwe'd build a pier when we'd got it. "

"My point is, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that the pier itself, the actual stonestructure sticking out into the sea, being no particular use to any oneonce it's built——"

"It'd be a public nuisance, " said the Major. 

"We can do very well with an inferior kind of pier, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What I mean to say is we might spend a little less than we're actuallygiven. "

"What about the inspector they'd send down?" said Doyle. 

"Them inspectors, " said Gallagher, "is as thick about the country asfleas on a dog. Hardly ever a man would turn round without he'd have oneof them asking him what he was doing it for. "

For once Gallagher had spoken in a way that was acceptable to the othermembers of the committee. There was a general murmur of assent. Everyonepresent was more or less conscious of the enormous numbers of inspectorsin Ireland. Even Major Kent, who had been in a bad temper all along, brightened up a little. 

"I was reading a paper the other day, " he said, "that 80 per cent, ofthe adult population of Leinster, Munster and Connacht, were paid by theGovernment to teach the other people how to get their livings, and tosee that they did what they were told. That included schoolmasters. "

"I shouldn't wonder now, " said Father McCormack, "that those figureswould be about right. "

"It was only the week before last, " said Doyle, "that there was aman stopping in my hotel, a man that looked as if he was earning acomfortable salary, and he——"

Doyle spoke in the tone of a man who is going to tell a long andleisurely story. Dr. O'Grady, who had heard the story before, interrupted him. 

"Of course we'd have to talk to the inspector when he comes, " he said. 

"You'd do that, O'Grady, " said the Major. "You'd talk to a bench ofbishops. "

"I'm not sure, " said Father McCormack, "that I quite see what thedoctor's getting at. "

"It's simple enough, " said Dr. O'Grady, "Suppose he offers us £500 for apier—he can't well make it less——"

"It'll be more, " said Doyle optimistically. "It'll be nearer a thousandpounds. "

"Say £500, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What I propose is that we spend £400 on apier and use the other hundred to pay for the statue and the rest of thethings we have to get. "

"Bedamn, " said Doyle, "but that's great. That's the best ever I heard. "

Major Kent rose to his feet. He was very red in the face, and there wasa look of rigid determination in his eyes. 

"I may as well tell you at once, " he said, "that I'll have nothing to dowith any such plan. "

"Why not?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Because I'm an honest man. I raised no particular objection when youmerely proposed to make a fool of me and everybody else concerned——"

"You've done very little else except raise objections, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"—But when it comes to a deliberate act of dishonesty———"

"That's a hard word, so it is, " said Doyle. 

"It's not a bit too hard, " said the Major, "and I say it again. Dishonesty. I won't have anything to do——"

"The Major's right, " said Father McCormack, "there's no denying it, theMajor's right. "

"He would be right, " said Dr. O'Grady, "he'd be perfectly right if therewere any dishonesty about the matter. I hope it isn't necessary for meto say that if I thought the plan a dishonest one I'd be the last man inIreland to propose it. "

"Of course, of course, " said Father McCormack. 

"The doctor wouldn't do the like, " said Doyle. 

"Sure we all know that, " said Father McCormack, "but the objection thatthe Major has raised——"

"It's all very well talking, " said the Major. "But talking won't alterfacts. It is dishonest to get a grant of money for one purpose and useit for something totally different. "

"I'm not quite sure, " said Dr. O'Grady, "whether you quite understandthe philosophy of modern charity, Major. "

"I understand the ten commandments, " said the Major, "and that's enoughfor me. "

"Nobody's saying a word against the ten commandments, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"You're going to do something against one of them, " said the Major, "andthat's worse. If you merely said things against them I shouldn't mind. We all know that you'd say anything. "

"You're begging the question, Major, you really are. Now listen to me. What's the ordinary recognised way of raising large sums of money forcharitable objects? Some kind of bazaar, isn't it?"

"It is, " said Father McCormack. "There's hardly ever a winter butthere's one or two of them up in Dublin for hospitals or the like. "

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady. "What happens when a bazaar is held?"

"It doesn't matter to us what happens, " said the Major. "We're notholding one. "

"Let the doctor speak, " said Doyle. 

"What happens is this, " said Dr. O'Grady. "A large sum of money, veryoften an enormous sum, is spent on getting up switch-back railways, and Alpine panoramas, and underground rivers, and old English villages. Those things are absolutely necessary to the success of the show. Theycost thousands of pounds sometimes. Now, who pays for them? The charitypays, and is jolly glad to. The price of them is deducted from thegross receipts and the balance is handed over to the hospital. Is thereanything dishonest about that?"

"There is not, of course, " said Father McCormack. "It's always done. "

"Wouldn't a bishop do it? A bishop of any church?"

"Lots of them do, " said Father McCormack. 

"Well, if a bishop would do it, it can't be dishonest, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You'll agree to that, I suppose, Major? You won't want toaccuse the hierarchy of Ireland, Protestant and Roman Catholics, offlying in the face of the ten commandments. "

The Major had sat down again. While Dr. O'Grady was speaking he turnedhis chair half round and stared out of the window. He wished to conveythe impression that he was not listening to a word that was said. WhenDr. O'Grady appealed to him directly he turned round again and answered:

"It's dishonest to take money given for one purpose and use it foranother, " he said. 

"I'm with you there, Major, " said Father McCormack. "I'm with youthere. "

"Are you prepared, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to go back on the whole theory ofnecessary expenses? Would you refuse to allow the unfortunate secretaryof a charitable society to refund himself for the postage stamps he usesin sending out his appeals?"

"Secretaries have nothing to do with us, " said the Major. "This is asimple question of right and wrong. "

"You haven't quite caught my point yet, " said Dr. O'Grady patiently. "What I'm trying to explain to you is this: we're in exactly the sameposition as the charity that's getting up a bazaar. In order to make themoney we want for the good of the town—the good of the town, mind you, Major—that's a worthy object. "

"A pier wouldn't be any good if you had it, " said the Major. 

"A lot of money would be spent building it, " said Dr. O'Grady, "andthat would do us all good. But in order to get a pier we must incursome expense. We shan't get the pier unless we succeed in enticing aLord-Lieutenant down here. "

"You will not, " said Doyle. "It's waste of time writing letters to thosefellows, for they don't read them. "

"And we can't get the Lord-Lieutenant down unless we have a statue forhim to unveil, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"He wouldn't come without he had something of the sort, " said FatherMcCormack. "That's sure. "

"Therefore, " said Dr. O'Grady, "the statue is a necessary part of ourexpenses in getting the pier. So is the illuminated address. So is thebouquet. And we're just as well entitled to charge what they all cost usagainst the money we succeed in making, as the secretary of a charitablebazaar is to debit his gross earnings with the hire of the hall in whichthe show is held. "

"Now that you put it in that way, " said Father McCormack, "I can seewell that there's something in what you say. "

"Honesty and dishonesty are two different things, " said the Major. 

"Don't keep on making those bald and senseless assertions, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Even an income tax collector, and he's the most sceptical kindof man there is with regard to assertions about money—but even he allowshis victims to deduct the expenses necessarily incurred in making theirincomes from the gross amount which they return to him. You can't wantto go behind the income tax authorities, Major. "

"It's all very well arguing, " said the Major, "and I can't answer youwhen you confuse things in the way you do. But I know perfectly wellthat it isn't right——"

"Well do what the doctor says, anyway, " said Doyle. "Doesn't theGovernment rob the whole of us every day more than ever we'll be able torob it?"

"There's something in that, too, " said Father McCormack. 

Curiously enough Doyle's statement produced far more effect on MajorKent's mind than the elaborate arguments of Dr. O'Grady. He wasaccustomed to gnash his teeth over the burden of taxation laid upon him. He had often, in private conversation, described governments, especiallyLiberal Governments, as bandits and thieves. 

"We are robbed, " he said. "I admit that. What with the extra tax onunearned income and the insurance of servants against accidents, andthis infernal new unemployment insurance, and the death duties, and——"

"There was a report of the Financial Relations Commission, " saidGallagher, "which presented a case on behalf of Ireland that showed——"

"Don't drag in politics, Thady, " said Dr. O'Grady. "The Major admitsthat he's robbed. That ought to be enough for you. Now, Major, if youwere attacked by a highwayman——"

"I didn't say the Government was a highwayman, " said the Major. 

"You said it was a robber. Didn't he, Father Mc-Cormack?"

"He said it had him robbed, " said Father McCormack, with the air of aman who is carefully making a fine distinction. 

"That's exactly the same thing. Now, Major, if a robber stole yourmoney, wouldn't you take the first chance you could of getting it back?You know you would. We all would. And would you call that dishonesty?You would not. Now we're offering you the chance of getting somethingback, a mere trifle, but still something, out of a Government which, asyou admit, has robbed you. Why on earth do you start making a fuss?"

"I can't argue with you, O'Grady, " said the Major, "but you're wrong. "

"What's the good of talking?" said Doyle. "We'll do what the doctorsays. "

"Your nephew won't be able to get that advance he asked for, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Let him not, " said Doyle. "I don't pity him. He'll get his money in theend. "

"Gentlemen, " said Father McCormack, "is it your will that the plan nowlaid before the meeting by Dr. O'Grady, be adopted?"

"It is, " said Gallagher. 

"What else is there for us to do?" said Doyle. 

"You may take me as dissenting, " said the Major. 

"I'll make a note of that in the minutes, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and thenyour conscience will be perfectly clear, no matter what happens. "

"Well, gentlemen, " said Father McCormack, "I suppose that completes ourarrangements for to-day. When shall we have our next meeting?" He roseto his feet as he spoke. Everyone else rose too. Major Kent put on hishat and walked towards the door. When he reached it he turned. 

"I shan't come to any more meetings, " he said. 

"I don't think there's any necessity to hold another meeting, " said Dr. O'Grady, "until after the Lord-Lieutenant has left and the time comesfor squaring up things. I shall be so busy between this and the day ofhis visit that I shan't have time to attend meetings. "

"Very well, " said Father McCormack. "I shall be all the better pleased. "

He left the room and followed Major Kent down the stairs. 

"Thady, " said Doyle, "do you go down to the bar, and I'll be with you ina minute. I've a word to say to the doctor. "

"I could do with a sup of porter after all that talk, " said Gallagher, as he left the room. 

"Doctor, " said Doyle, "if things turn out the way we hope——". 

"I suppose you're knocking a commission out of that nephew of yours forselling his statue for him?"

"Twenty-five per pent, is the amount agreed on. It isn't everyone I'dtell, but I've confidence in you, doctor. "

"And if we get £500 for the pier?"

"A middling good pier, " said Doyle, "as good a pier as anyone'd have aright to expect in a place like this, might be built for £300. "

"That'll put £120 into your pocket, Doyle, not counting anything you maymake on the luncheons!"

"What I was meaning to say, doctor, is, that it would be a satisfactionto me if there was something coming to yourself. You deserve it. "

"Thank you, Doyle; but I'm not in this business to make money. "

"It would be well, " said Doyle with a sigh, "if you'd make a little morenow and again. "

"If you're going to start about that wretched bill I owe you——"

"I am not then. Nor I won't mention it to you until such time as youmight be able to pay it. If so be that things turn out the way you say Ishouldn't care——"

"If you keep Gallagher waiting too long for his drink, " said Dr. O'Grady, "he'll start breaking things. He must be uncommonly thirstyafter all the speeches he made this afternoon. "

"That's true, " said Doyle. "I'd maybe better go to him. "

Constable Moriarty stood just outside the door of the hotel. He salutedMajor Kent as he passed. He touched his hat respectfully to FatherMcCormack. He saw Gallagher come downstairs and enter the bar. A fewminutes later he saw Dr. O'Grady. All traces of his usual smile vanishedfrom his face. He drew himself up stiffly, and his eyes expressedsomething more than official severity. When Dr. O'Grady passed throughthe door into the street, Moriarty confronted him. 

"I'm glad to see, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you've stopped grinning. It'squite time you did. "

"It's not grins I'm talking about now, " said Moriarty. "It's MaryEllen. "

"Nice little girl, isn't she?"

"It's a nice little girl you'll make of her before you've done! What'sthis I'm after hearing about the way you have in mind for dressing herup?"

"Do be reasonable, Moriarty! What's the good of asking me what you'veheard? I can't possibly know, for I wasn't there when you heard it. "

"You know well what I heard. "

"Look here, Moriarty, " said Dr. O'Grady. "If you think I'm going tostand here to be bullied by you in the public street you're greatlymistaken. Why don't you go and patrol somewhere?"

"I'll not have Mary Ellen play-acting before the Lord-Lieutenant, so nowyou know, doctor. "

"There's no play-acting to be done, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We haven't evenhad time to get up a pageant. I wish we had. You'd look splendid asa Roman Emperor trampling on a conquered people. I'm not sure that Iwouldn't get you up as an Assyrian bull. The expression of your face isjust right this minute. "

"Mary Ellen's an orphan girl, " said Moriarty, "with no father to lookafter her, and what's more I'm thinking of marrying her myself. So it'sas well for you to understand, doctor, that I'll not have her charactertook from her. It's not the first time you've tried that same, but ithad better be the last. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, Moriarty. There's nobodyinjuring the girl's character except, maybe, yourself. Doyle tells meyou're never out of the back-yard of the hotel. "

"You put it out that she was married to young Kerrigan. "

"That was Thady Gallagher, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and it didn't do her abit of harm. Nobody except Mr. Billing believed it. "

"I don't mind that so much now, " said Moriarty, "though I don't deny Iwas angry at the time, but what I won't have is Mary Ellen dressed up tobe an ancient Irish colleen. It's not respectful to the girl. "

"You told me the other day that you want the Lord-Lieutenant to make youa sergeant. Did you mean that when you said it, or did you not?"

"It's no way to make a sergeant of me to be dressing up Mary Ellen. "

"It's far the best way. When the Lord-Lieutenant sees her and hears——"

"It's not going to be done, anyway, " said Moriarty, "for I won't haveit. "

"Listen to me now, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and you may take it that this ismy last word, for I haven't time to waste talking to you. If I catchyou interfering with Mary Ellen in any way or setting the girl's mind upagainst the costume that Mrs. Gregg has designed for her, I'll speak toMr. Gregg, and have you transferred to some different county altogether, where you'll never see Mary Ellen either in fancy dress or any otherway. What's more I'll represent your conduct to the Lord-Lieutenant, sothat you'll never be made a sergeant as long as you live. "

These threats affected Moriarty. He had no doubt in his mind that Dr. O'Grady could and would carry out the first of them. About the second hewas not quite so sure, but it remained a horrible possibility. 

He saw that there was nothing to be done by opposing his will to apowerful combination of private influence and official power. Withoutspeaking another word he turned and walked across the street to thebarrack. But his anger had by no means died away. He found SergeantColgan asleep in the living-room. He woke him at once. 

"I'll be even with that doctor, " he said, "before I've done with him. "

"That's threatening language, " said the sergeant, who was not pleasedat being wakened, "and it's actionable; so you'd better mind yourself, Moriarty. There's many a better man than you has gone to jail for lessthan that. I knew a Member of Parliament one time that got three weeksfor no more than saying that he'd like to see the people beating thelife out of a land grabber. What has the doctor been doing to you?"

"It's about Mary Ellen. "

"Get out, " said the sergeant, "you and your Mary Ellen! It's too fondyou are of running here and there after that same Mary Ellen. "

It was plain that no sympathy was to be expected from Sergeant Colgan. Moriarty sat down on a chair in the corner and meditated on plans ofvengeance. The sergeant dropped off to sleep again. 

CHAPTER XVII

According to the official programme—so described by Dr. O'Grady—theLord-Lieutenant and Lady Chesterton were to arrive in Ballymoy bymotor-car at half-past twelve o'clock. There might be two motor-cars. That depended on the number of aides-de-camp and of the suite which theLord-Lieutenant brought. There would certainly be one, and Doyle had thecoach-house in his back-yard emptied and carefully cleaned to serve forthe garage. Everything in the town was ready before half-past ten. The statue had been erected on its pedestal the day before and excitedgeneral admiration. Even Major Kent admitted that it was a strikingwork of art which would be an ornament to the town. The deceasedDeputy-Lieutenant was dressed in flowing robes which resembled thoseworn by judges. He held a large roll, intended to represent parchment, in his left hand. This, Dr. O'Grady said, might very well be taken forthe original draft of the Bolivian Constitution. His right hand pointedupwards with extended forefinger. In the case of the Deputy-Lieutenant, who was almost certainly a strong Unionist, this may have symbolisedan appeal to the higher powers—the House of Lords, or even the King—torefuse consent to a Home Rule Bill. When the statue ceased to be aDeputy-Lieutenant and became General John Regan the attitude was takento express his confidence in the heavenly nature of the national libertywhich he had won for Bolivia. This was the explanation of the upliftedforefinger which Dr. O'Grady offered to Thady Gallagher. But Gallagherwas curiously sulky and suspicious. He seemed unimpressed. 

Doyle's nephew came down to Ballymoy and personally superintended thefixing of the statue on its pedestal. He complained that the cementsupplied for the purpose by his uncle was of very inferior quality, andexpressed grave doubts about the stability of the structure. Dr. O'Gradydid not seem very anxious. He hinted that the people of Ballymoy wouldbe quite satisfied if the statue stood for twenty-four hours. Theweather was exceptionally fine and calm. There was no reason—if theunveiling were carefully done—why Doyle's cement should be subjected toany strain whatever. 

At nine o'clock on the morning of the Lord-Lieutenant's visit, Dr. O'Grady, with the help of Doyle and two labourers, who had threestep-ladders, veiled the statue. They draped it from the head to thebottom of the pedestal in a large sheet of blay calico of a lightyellowish colour. This was carefully done, and an elaborate arrangementof string was made, leading out from the statue to the place where theLord-Lieutenant was to stand. Dr. O'Grady satisfied himself by a seriesof experiments that the apparatus would work. At a single pull at theend of the string the whole sheet fluttered to the ground and exposedthe Deputy-Lieutenant to public view. 

It was ten o'clock before these arrangements were completed and thestep-ladders taken away. Dr. O'Grady went into the barrack and warnedSergeant Colgan that he would be held personally responsible if anycurious wayfarer pulled the string before the proper time. SergeantColgan at once ordered Moriarty to mount guard over the statue. Dr. O'Grady went over to the hotel and inspected the luncheon table. Hehad laid it himself the night before, so he felt fairly confident thateverything was as it should be; but he was not inclined to run anyrisks. It was just possible that Doyle, acting on advice from somebodyelse, might have altered the position of the spoons and forks during thenight. 

"It'll be after lunch, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that we'll introduce thesubject of a pier. "

"Then or sooner, " said Doyle. 

"Hints will have been given before that, " said Dr. O'Grady. "FatherMcCormack has promised to touch on the undeveloped condition of ourfishing industry when he's making his introductory remarks previous tothe unveiling of the statue. If I get half a chance, I mean to point outwhat excellent stones there are in that old mill of yours. The matteris distinctly alluded to at the end of the illuminated address, but I'mafraid they're not likely to read that till they get back to Dublin, ifthen. I suppose, by the way, the address has arrived all right?"

"It has, " said Doyle, "but I haven't it unpacked yet. It's in a case. "

"We'd better have it quite ready. Get a screwdriver, will you, and ahammer. "

The address turned out to be very large indeed and most magnificentlycoloured. In the top left-hand corner was a small photograph of themarket square of Ballymoy, without the statue. In the right-hand Cornerwas a picture, supplied by Mr. Aloysius Doyle, of the statue itself. Inthe bottom left-hand corner was a photograph of the Viceregal Lodge inthe Phoenix Park, and opposite it a portrait of the Lord-Lieutenant inhis state robes. The whole left-hand side of the address was occupiedby an immensely complicated design made up of spirals, serpents, andtrumpet pattern ornaments, which twisted in and out of each other ina way most bewildering to the eye. This was supposed to represent themanner in which ancient Irish artists made the letter "t, " when theywere not in a hurry. "T" is the first letter of the word "to" withwhich the actual address began. The words "Excellency, " "Lord, " and"Lieutenant" were similarly honoured with capital letters of Celticdesign, but inferior size. "Ireland, " which came on a line to itself, was blazoned in red and green, on a background of dull gold, laid onsmoothly, and afterwards dinted here and there with some instrumentwhich must have resembled a blunt pin. The rest of the letter-press wasdone in crooked, angular characters, very ornamental to look at, butmost difficult to read. 

"It's a good address, so it is, " said Doyle, "and worth the money, though, mind you, it was a big lot we gave for it. A cheaper one wouldhave done well enough. "

"I call it cheap at the price, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I'd no idea you couldget so much for £4. Now what about the bouquet?"

"I have it in a jug of water, " said Doyle, "under the counter of thebar. I thought it would be better in water the way it would be fresh. "

"Quite right. But be sure you wipe the stalks before you give it toMrs. Gregg. It doesn't so much matter about Lady Chesterton. She mustbe pretty well accustomed to handling damp bouquets. But I'd be sorryto spoil Mrs. Gregg's new gloves. She's sure to have new gloves. By theway, what's being done about getting Mary Ellen ready? That girl can'tbe trusted to dress herself. "

"Mrs. Gregg is putting the clothes on her this minute, " said Doyle, "above in the best bedroom. She said she'd do it early so as she'd havetime after to go home and dress herself. "

"There's been no trouble with Moriarty, I suppose? I told you about theway he threatened me, didn't I?"

"He hasn't said a word to me, but he's a fellow I wouldn't trust furtherthan I can see him, and he's had an ugly look about him this three days, like as if he had some mischief in his mind. "

"I wouldn't trust him either, " said Dr. O'Grady; "but I don't see whathe could do. He wouldn't venture to meddle with the statue, would he?Tangle up the strings we have tied to the sheet or anything of thatsort?"

"He would not; for he knows well it would be the worse for him ifhe did. It's not likely Mr. Gregg would overlook it if Moriarty didanything that put a stop to Mrs. Gregg presenting the bouquet. "

"We'll have to chance it anyway, and I don't see that he can do muchexcept sulk, and that won't hurt us. I think I'll be getting home now, Doyle. I have to shave and generally clean up a bit before the Viceregalparty arrives. You don't own a silk hat, I suppose?"

"I do not. What would I have the like for?"

"You might have worn it if you had, " said Dr. O'Grady. "My own is so oldthat I'm ashamed to put it on. However, it doesn't really matter. Both the Major and Father McCormack are sure to have them, so theLord-Lieutenant won't notice that you and I haven't and nobody wouldexpect much from Thady Gallagher. After all, our hats will be in ourhands most of the time, and we can keep them behind our backs. "

At half-past eleven Mary Ellen and Mrs. Gregg came out of the hoteltogether. Mary Ellen's costume was beautifully complete. An Englishtourist accustomed to buy the coloured picture postcards with which theGermans obligingly supply our shops, would have recognised her at onceas an Irish colleen. Her stockings were of the brightest shade of green. Her shoes, which were highly polished, had aggressively square toes andenormous steel buckles which flashed in the sunlight as she walked. Herskirt reached half way down the calves of her legs. It was of crimsonflannel, made very wide. A green and black tartan shawl was fastenedround her with a large Tara brooch which also held in its place a trailof shamrock. Underneath the shawl she had a green silk blouse. It showedvery little but it exactly matched her stockings. Her hair wasbrushed smoothly back from her forehead, and covered with a black andwhite-checked kerchief tied beneath her chin and falling in a neattriangle at the nape of her neck. Mrs. Gregg, who was naturally verypleased, led Mary Ellen over to the statue, placed her beside it, andtold her not to move or in any way disorder her dress. Then she herselfhurried away. 

Constable Moriarty, who was on guard beside the statue, scowled at MaryEllen. He approached her slowly, walked round her, surveyed her fromevery point of view, and then snorted with intense disapproval. 

"Your mother wouldn't know you, " he said. 

Mary Ellen smiled. She was greatly pleased at her own appearance andchose to take Moriarty's remark as a compliment. 

"She might not, " she said, in a tone of evident delight. 

Moriarty intended to say more; but at that moment the town band beganto play. Young Kerrigan had collected the members of it early in the dayand kept them in a group outside his father's shop. The arrival of MaryEllen seemed to him to be a suitable occasion for a tune. He gave asignal and the band struck up. "Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore"was the tune on which they chanced. It was remarkably appropriate. Theband marched twice round the statue playing that tune. With the lastnote it came to rest again in its old position outside Kerrigan's shop. Then Thady Gallagher came out of his office. He walked over and lookedat Mary Ellen. 

"If you're not ashamed of yourself, " he said, "you ought to be. "

"I am not, then, " said Mary Ellen. 

Gallagher turned to Moriarty. 

"You're sure now, " he said, "that the tune the band is to play is theone you told me. "

Moriarty grinned malevolently. 

"I am sure, " he said. 

"For if you're playing any kind of a trick on me——"

"I am not. Amn't I wanting to get my knife into the doctor the same asyourself?"

"And why would you want that?"

"It's on account of the way he has Mary Ellen dressed up. Will you lookat the girl?"

Gallagher looked at her again, long and carefully. 

"Play acting!" said Moriarty, "and she's a respectable girl. It's notdecent, so it's not. "

"If the tune's what you say it is, " said Gallagher, "it'll not be playedin Ballymoy to-day nor any other day. I'll put the fear of God intoyoung Kerrigan before he's an hour older. "

Moriarty grinned again. It seemed that, with the aid of Gallagher, hewas going to hit Dr. O'Grady on a vital spot. He understood that greatimportance was attached to the performance of "Rule, Brittania" by theband. Gallagher walked across to young Kerrigan. 

"I know now, " he said, "what the tune is you're meaning to play. "

"If you know that, " said Kerrigan, "you know more than I do. "

"None of your lies now. Constable Moriarty is after telling me the nameof the tune. "

"If you know it, " said Kerrigan, "maybe you'll tell me. Not that I carewhat the name of it is, for it's a good tune, name or no name. "

"You will care, " said Gallagher. "You will care before the day is out. "

"Why don't you tell me the name of it, then? if so be you know it. "

"You know well why I don't tell you. It's because I wouldn't defile mylips with the name of it, because I wouldn't say the words that would bea disgrace to any Irishman. "

"You're mighty particular, " said young Kerrigan. "It would have to be apretty bad name that's on the tune if it's worse than what you said manya time. "

Gallagher was not in a mood to submit calmly to taunts of this kind. Heknew that he was perfectly right in refusing to pronounce the name ofthe tune. He was convinced that young Kerrigan knew and was able to talkas he did only because he was dead to all sense of decency or shame. 

"Let me tell you this, " he said, "and it's my last word. If that tune'splayed in Ballymoy to-day it'll be the worse for you, and the worse foryour father, and the worse for all belonging to you. Let you not playthat tune or the grass will be growing on the step outside your father'sshop before any decent Nationalist will go into it to buy a bit of meat. Them that makes their living off the people will have to mind themselvesthat they don't outrage the convictions of the people. "

This was an awful threat, and it cowed young Kerrigan a good deal. Hedid not believe that Gallagher was capable of having it carried out tothe last extremity. The grass would not actually grow on his father'sdoorstep, because the people of the west of Ireland, though swift andpassionate in resentment, find a difficulty in keeping up a personalquarrel long enough to permit of the growth of grass. But a great dealof temporary inconvenience might be caused by a boycott initiated byGallagher and taken up by the local branch of the League. Young Kerriganwas shaken. 

"You'd better speak to the doctor about it, " he said. "It's his tune andnot mine. "

"I will speak to the doctor, " said Gallagher. "I'll speak to him in away he won't like. I was thinking all along he was up to some mischiefwith that tune; but I didn't know how bad it was till Moriarty wastalking to me this morning. Where is the doctor?"

"He was over in Doyle's hotel a minute ago, " said Kerrigan, "but I don'tknow is he there yet. He might not be, for I seen him going out of itand along the street. "

"Wherever he is I'll make it hot for him, " said Gallagher, as he turnedaway. 

"Constable Moriarty be damned, " said young Kerrigan softly but ferventlyas soon as Gallagher was safely out of earshot. Gallagher stopped on hisway to the hotel to take another scornful look at Mary Ellen. 

"If your father that's dead was alive this day, " he said, "he'd turn youout of the house when he seen you in them clothes. "

Mary Ellen had no recollection of her father, who had died before shewas twelve months old, but she was more hopeful about him than Gallagherseemed to be. 

"He might not, " she said. 

Then Father McCormack appeared, walking briskly up the street fromthe-presbytery. He was wearing, as Dr. O'Grady had anticipated, a silkhat. He had a very long and voluminous frock coat. He had even, and thismarked his sense of the importance of the occasion, made creases downthe fronts of his trousers. Gallagher went to meet him. 

"Good morning, Thady, " said Father McCormack cheerfully. "We're in greatluck with the weather. "

"Father, " said Gallagher, "you were always one that was heart and soulwith the people of Ireland, and it will make you sorry, so it will, sorry and angry, to hear what I have to tell you. "

Father McCormack felt uneasy. He did not know what Gallagher meantto tell him, but he was uncomfortably conscious that the day of theLord-Lieutenant's visit might be a highly inconvenient time for provinghis devotion to the cause of the people. The worst of devotion to anycause is that it makes demands on the devotee at moments when it is mostdifficult to fulfil them. Father McCormack tried feebly to put off theevil hour. 

"To-morrow, Thady, to-morrow, " he said. "There isn't time now. It'shalf-past eleven, and the Lord-Lieutenant may be here any minute. "

"Begging your reverence's pardon, " said Gallagher firmly, "but to-morrowwill be too late. The insult that is about to be offered to the peopleof this locality will be offered to-day if a stop's not put to it. "

"Nonsense, Thady, nonsense, nobody is going to insult us. "

"You wouldn't know about it, " said Gallagher, "for you'd be the last manthey'd dare to tell, knowing well that you'd be as angry as I am myself. Do you know what the tune is that the doctor has taught to the band?"

Father McCormack did know, but he was very unwilling to enter into adiscussion of the subject with Gallagher. 

"Constable Moriarty, " said Gallagher, "is after telling me the name ofthe tune, and you'd be surprised, so you would, if you heard it. "

"You may be mistaken, Thady, you may be mistaken. One tune's very likeanother when it's played on a band. "

"I am not mistaken, " said Gallagher, who was beginning to feelsuspicious about the priest's evident desire to shelve the subject. 

"And anyway, " said Father McCormack, "it's Dr. O'Grady himself thatyou'd better be speaking to about the tune. "

"I will speak to him; but he's not here presently. "

"Try Doyle then, " said Father McCormack. "There he is coming out of thehotel. I haven't time to go into the matter. I want to go over and lookat Mary Ellen. "

He slipped away as he spoke, leaving Gallagher standing, sulky and verysuspicious, by himself. Doyle, who had no reason to think that anythinghad gone wrong, greeted him heartily. Gallagher replied angrily. 

"Do you know what tune it is that the band's going to play?" he said. 

"You and your old tune!" said Doyle. "You had the life plagued out of meabout that tune. Can't you let it alone?"

"I will not let it alone, for——"

"Was it that you were talking to the priest about?"

"It was, and——"

"I thought it might have been, " said Doyle, "by the look of him. Whycan't you have sense, Thady, instead of tormenting the whole town abouta tune?"

"It's my belief, " said Gallagher, "that he knows more about the tunethan he'd care to own up to. He and the doctor is in the conspiracytogether. "

"I'll not stand here listening to you talking disrespectfully about theclergy, " said Doyle with a fine show of indignation. 

He felt that he was on doubtful ground in discussing the tune, whichmight, for all he knew, be an objectionable one. It was a satisfactionto be able to put himself definitely in the right by protesting againstGallagher's tendency to anti-clericalism. 

"I'd be the last man in Ireland, " said Gallagher, "that would say a wordagainst the clergy, but when we get Home Rule—and that won't be longnow, please God——"

He paused impressively. 

"Well, " said Doyle, "what'll you do to the clergy when you get HomeRule?"

"There's some of them that will be put in their places mighty quick, them that's opposing the will of the people of Ireland behind theirbacks. "

"If you mean Father McCormack, Thady, you'd better go home before you'vesaid what you'll be sorry for. "

"I'll not go home till I've told the doctor what I think of him. "

"Well, go and see him, " said Doyle. "He's in his house. When you comeback you can tell me what he says to you. That'll be better worthhearing than anything you're likely to say to him. "

Doyle looked round with an air of some satisfaction when Gallagherleft him. He had no doubt that Dr. O'Grady would be able to dealsatisfactorily with the difficulty about the tune. Everything elseseemed to be going well. A considerable number of people had alreadygathered in the square. The band stood ready to play. Father McCormackwas apparently very much pleased with the appearance of Mary Ellen. Constable Moriarty was on guard over the statue, looking unusuallystern. Sergeant Colgan had come out of the barrack and was exertingall his authority to keep back a number of small children who wanted toinvestigate Mary Ellen's costume. Every time any of them approached herwith the intention of pulling her shawl or testing by actual touch thematerial of her skirt, Sergeant Colgan spoke majestically. 

"Get away out of that, " he said. "Get along home out of that, the wholeof yez. "

The children did not, of course, obey him literally; but they alwaysdrew back from Mary Ellen when he spoke, and it was generally at least aminute before the boldest of them ventured to touch her again. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Doyle's satisfaction did not last long. Major Kent drove into the townin his pony trap and pulled up opposite the statue. He called to FatherMcCormack, who had satisfied himself about Mary Ellen's appearance, and was prowling round the statue, making mild jokes about its ghostlyappearance. Doyle detected a note of urgency in the Major's voice, and hurried across the square, reaching the pony trap just as FatherMcCormack did. 

"So I hear, " said the Major, "that the Lord-Lieutenant's not comingafter all. "

For a moment neither Father McCormack nor Doyle spoke at all. Therumour—it could be no more than a rumour—to which the Major referred wastoo terrible for immediate digestion. 

"I shan't be sorry myself, " said the Major, "if he doesn't come. I'vealways thought we were making fools of ourselves. "

Then Doyle regained his power of speech. 

"It's a lie, " he said, "and whoever told it to you is a liar. TheLord-Lieutenant can't not come. "

"It'll be a curious thing, so it will, " said Father McCormack, "if hedoesn't, but I can't believe it. Who was it told you, Major, if youdon't mind my asking?"

"It was Mr. Ford, " said the Major. "He was standing at his door as Idrove past and he stopped me to say that he'd just had a telegram fromDublin Castle——"

"I don't believe it, " said Doyle. "I don't believe a word of it. Thatfellow Ford was against us all the time, and he's just saying this nowto annoy us. "

"He seemed to believe it himself, " said the Major. 

"Where's the doctor?" said Father McCormack. "If there's any truth in ithe'll be sure to know. "

"If so be that such a telegram was sent, " said Doyle, "it'll be onaccount of something that fellow Ford has been doing. He was alwaysagainst us. "

"Where's the doctor?" said Father McCormack helplessly. 

"Probably bolted, " said the Major. "If Ford's news is true that's theonly thing for the doctor to do. "

"He was with me half-an-hour ago, " said Doyle, "taking a look round atthe luncheon and the rest of it. He went away back to his house to cleanhimself. If he knew——but he didn't. "

"I'll go and see him at once, " said Father McCormack. 

"You'll find that he's cut and run, " said the Major. 

"You needn't go, Father, " said Doyle, "for Thady Gallagher's just aftergoing to him, and I see him coming back at the far end of the streetthis minute. "

Thady Gallagher pushed his way through the crowd which had gatheredthickly at the lower end of the square. It was plain from the way heelbowed the people who stood in his way that he was in a very bad temperindeed. He strode up to the Major's trap and began to speak at the topof his voice. 

"Let me tell you this, gentlemen, " he said: "if you deserve the name ofgentlemen, which you don't, that the conspiracy which you're engaged infor insulting the people of this district by means of a tune——"

He appeared to be addressing himself particularly to Major Kent, whomhe evidently regarded as, next to the doctor, the chief conspirator. TheMajor disliked being abused. He also shrank from complicated situations. He foresaw that an argument with Gallagher about a tune which might beplayed if the Lord-Lieutenant did not fail to keep his appointment, waslikely to be a confused and highly complex business. He touched his ponywith the whip and drove away in the direction of Doyle's yard, where heusually put up his trap. 

"Have sense, Thady, " said Father McCormack appealingly. 

"I will not have sense, " said Gallagher. "Why would I have sense when——"

"Did you speak to the doctor?" said Doyle. 

"I did not, but if I had——"

"The Lord save us and deliver us, " said Doyle in despair. "He's gone, the way the Major said he would. "

"What are you talking about?" said Gallagher. "The doctor's shavinghimself. "

"Are you sure of that?"

"I am sure. Didn't I go through the house till I found him? Didn't Iopen the door of the room he was in? Didn't I see him standing therewith a razor in his hand?"

"And what did he say to you, Thady? Did he tell you——"

"He told me to get along out of that, " said Gallagher. 

"It's likely he'd heard the news. He'd never have said the like of thatto you, Thady, if he hadn't been upset about something. "

"What'll we do at all?" said Doyle. "There's the statue to be paid forand the dress for Mary Ellen and the luncheon. It's ruined we'll be, forwhere will we get the money?"

"I had my mind made up, " said Gallagher, "to speak out plain to thedoctor about the tune the band's to play. I had my mind made up to tellhim straight what I thought of him. And to tell him what I thought ofthe whole of you. "

"Be quiet, Thady, " said Father McCormack. "Don't you know——"

"There's more than you will want to speak plain to the doctor, " saidDoyle in sudden anger. "It's him that's got us into the trouble we'rein. It's him that ought to be made to pay up what'll have to be paid;only he can't do it, for he owes more this minute than ever he'll pay. Tell me now, Thady, what you said to him. Tell me the language youused. It'll be some satisfaction to me to hear the words you said to thedoctor. "

"I said nothing, " said Gallagher. "Is it likely I'd speak the way Imeant to a man with an open razor in his hand? I'd have had my throatcut if I'd said a word. "

Mrs. Gregg rode hurriedly into the market square on her bicycle, whileGallagher was making his confession. She wore a delicate and flimsy pinksilk skirt, entirely unsuited for cycling. A very large hat, adornedwith a wreath of pink roses, had been forced to the back of her head bythe speed at which she rode, and was held there with much strain by twolarge pins. She had only one glove, and several hooks at the back of theupper part of her dress were unfastened. No one could doubt that Mrs. Gregg had left home before she was quite ready. No one could doubt thatshe had come into Ballymoy as fast as she could. She dismounted in frontof Father McCormack and panted. She said "Oh" three times, and each timewas prevented saying anything else by lack of breath. Then she caughtsight of Major Kent, who was coming out of the hotel yard after stablinghis pony. She let her bicycle fall at the feet of Father McCormack, andran to the Major. 

"Oh, " she said. "Oh! my husband—just told me—a telegram—isn't itfrightful? What are we to do?"

"I'm rather glad myself, " said the Major, "but everybody else is makinga fuss. "

Doyle, Father McCormack and Gallagher followed Mrs. Gregg. FatherMcCormack, who was a chivalrous man even when agitated, picked up herbicycle and brought it with him. 

"Is it true, ma'am, " said Doyle, "what we're after hearing?"

"It's quite true, " said Mrs. Gregg. "My husband had a telegram. So hadMr. Ford. And Mrs. Ford is so pleased. Oh, it's too much! But where'sDr. O'Grady?"

"Everybody is asking that, " said the Major. "My own impression is thathe's bolted. "

"If only Dr. O'Grady were here, " said Mrs. Gregg, "he might dosomething. "

"There's one thing the doctor won't do, " said Gallagher, "Lord-Lieutenant or no Lord-Lieutenant, he'll not have the town bandplaying the tune that he's after teaching young Kerrigan. "

"Doyle, " said Major Kent, "do you think you could get Thady Gallagherout of this? He's becoming a nuisance. Nobody's temper will stand a HomeRule speech at the present moment. "

"Thady, " said Doyle, persuasively, "a drop of something to drink iswhat will suit you. The inside of your throat is dried up the same as ifyou'd been eating lime on account of the rage that's in you. "

Doyle was himself no less perplexed than everyone else. He was moreacutely sensitive than anyone to the danger of financial disaster. Buthe was a man of cool judgment even in a crisis. He saw that Gallagher'spresence was highly inconvenient. 

"A bottle of porter, Thady, " he said, "or maybe two, would do you good. "

Gallagher made a strong effort to swallow, intending when he had doneso to speak again. But the description Doyle gave of the inside of histhroat and the thought of cool draughts of porter, had actually induceda very real dryness of his mouth. He turned doubtfully towards thehotel, walked a few steps and then stood still again. 

Doyle caught a glimpse, through a momentary opening in the crowd, of Dr. O'Grady, shaved, and very carefully dressed in a new grey tweed suit. Hebecame more than ever anxious to get Gallagher into the hotel. 

"If you fancy a glass of whisky, Thady, " he said, "it's in there for youand welcome. There'll be no tunes played here for the next half hour, anyway, so you needn't be afraid to go. "

He took Gallagher by the arm as he spoke and led him towards the hotel. Gallagher went at first with apparent reluctance, but as he got nearthe door his steps quickened. Doyle did not leave him till he handed himover to the care of the young man who stood behind the bar while Doylehimself was absent. 

Dr. O'Grady made his way through the crowd with gay confidence, smilingand nodding to his acquaintances as he went. The people had beenslightly suspicious beforehand and feared that something had gone wrongwith the arrangements for the day's entertainment. They were cheered, and their confidence was fully restored when they saw Dr. O'Grady wasnot in the least depressed. He smiled at Mary Ellen as he passed her andwinked at Constable Moriarty. 

Mrs. Gregg, as soon as she caught sight of him, rushed to meet him. 

"Oh, Dr. O'Grady, " she said, "isn't it terrible? What are we to do? Iwouldn't mind so much only that Mrs. Ford is delighted. But you'll beable to do something, won't you?"

"The first thing to be done, " said Dr. O'Grady, "is to stop thosechildren pulling the clothes off Mary Ellen. Would you mind, Mrs. Gregg, just running over and setting her shawl straight? Fix it with a pin. It's horrid the way it is. "

Mrs. Gregg went over to Mary Ellen. She was deeply interested in thegirl's costume, and she still cherished a hope that Dr. O'Grady mightmanage somehow, even without the Lord-Lieutenant, to arrange for aceremonial unveiling of the statue. 

"Well, O'Grady, " said Major Kent maliciously. "I suppose we may aswell take down that statue. It's no particular use where it is, and itdoesn't seem likely to help you to plunder the public funds. "

"There will have to be slight alteration in our plans, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but I don't see any reason for postponing the unveiling of thestatue. "

"Do you know that the Lord-Lieutenant's not coming?" said FatherMcCormack. 

"I had a telegram from his private secretary, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I mustsay I think he might have let us know a little sooner. I was out earlyand I didn't get the message till an hour ago. Where's Doyle?"

"Doyle's making Thady Gallagher drunk in the hotel, " said the Major. 

"Good, " said Dr. O'Grady. "That's much the best thing to do with Thady. But I wish he'd be quick about it, for I want to speak to him. "

"Here he is coming now, " said Father McCormack. 

Doyle, who had himself taken half a glass of whisky, approached Dr. O'Grady with great courage and determination. 

"If the Lord-Lieutenant isn't coming, " he said, "and I can see by thelook of you that you know he's not, who's going to pay for the statueand the rest of the foolishness you're after buying? That's what I'dlike to know. "

"Don't you fret about that, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady. "That will be allright. "

"How can it?" said Doyle. "If the Lord-Lieutenant doesn't come, and hewon't, who's going to give us the money?"

"Leave that entirely in my hands, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It'll be perfectlyall right. "

"That's what you're always saying, " said Doyle sulkily. "'It'll be allright. It'll be all right. ' Haven't you been saying it to me for thelast two years? 'All right, ' says you, and, 'It's all right, ' wheneverthe money you owe me is mentioned. "

"More shame for you then, Doyle, for mentioning it so often. I wouldn'tsay 'All right' or anything else about it if you didn't force me to. "

"I'm dead sick of your 'All rights' anyway, " said Doyle. 

"Be quiet now, " said Father McCormack. "Isn't the doctor doing the besthe can for you? Is it his fault that the Lord-Lieutenant isn't here?"

"If you'll only stop growling, Doyle, and co-operate with me in bringingoff the day's entertainment successfully——"

"Surely to goodness, O'Grady, you're not going on with the statuefarce?"

"Of course I am. The only chance we have now of getting the money——"

"It's a damned poor chance, " said Doyle. 

"On the contrary, " said Dr. O'Grady, "it's a remarkably good chance. Don't you see that if we unveil the statue successfully, in spite of theway, the really scandalous way, the Lord-Lieutenant has treated us——"

"I wash my hands of the whole business, " said the Major. 

"You can wash them afterwards, " said Dr. O'Grady, "but at present you'llstand in with the rest of us. After the way the Lord-Lieutenant hastreated us over the statue he'll have to give us a rattling good pier. He won't be able to refuse. Oh, hang it! Here's Mrs. Gregg again. "

Mrs. Gregg had settled Mary Ellen's shawl. She had spoken sternly, withan authority borrowed from her husband's official position, to SergeantColgan. She was filled with curiosity and excitement. 

"Someone must get her out of this, " said Dr. O'Grady. "I can't settlethings with her babbling at me. 

"If there was a chance that she'd be wanting a drink, " said Doyle, "butthem ones wouldn't. "

"Mrs. Gregg, " said Dr. O'Grady, "excuse my mentioning it; but there arethree hooks in the back of your blouse that aren't fastened. It'san awfully nice blouse, but as you have it on at present it'srather—rather—well dégagé. "

"I started in such a hurry, " said Mrs. Gregg. "The moment I heard——"

"If you go into the hotel, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you'll find alooking-glass. You'll be able to inspect the bouquet too. It's in a jugof water under the counter in——— You take her, Father McCormack, andfind the bouquet for her. "

Father McCormack was not listening. He was looking at a large motor-carwhich had just drawn up at the far end of the street, leading into thesquare. 

"It's him after all, " he said. 

"It's who?" said Dr. O'Grady, turning round. 

The crowd which was pressing round the statue began to edge away fromit. Men were standing on tiptoe, straining their necks to see over theirfellows' heads. Everybody began to move towards the motorcar. A loudcheer burst from the people nearest to it. 

"It's him sure enough, " said Father McCormack. 

"It's the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Doyle excitedly. "Bedamn, but this isgreat! We'll be all right now. "

"It can't possibly be the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Dr. O'Grady. "He'dnever change his mind twice in the same morning. "

A tall man, very well dressed in a long frock-coat and a shiny silkhat, stood up in the motor. The crowd cheered again with tumultuousenthusiasm. 

"It must be the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Mrs. Gregg ecstatically. "Oh, will someone please hook up my blouse?"

"There's nobody else it could be, " said Doyle. "Come on now, till wego to meet him. Come on, Father. Come you, Major. Doctor, will you gofirst? It's you knows the proper way to speak to the likes of him. "

But Father McCormack had a strong sense of his own dignity, and wasconvinced that the Church had a right to precedence on all ceremonialoccasions. He walked, hat in hand, towards the stranger in the motorcar. The people divided to let him pass. Major Kent and Doyle followed him. Dr. O'Grady stood still. Mrs. Gregg ran over to Mary Ellen and beggedher to hook up the back of the dégagé blouse. Young Kerrigan musteredthe town band. The members had strayed a little through the crowd, but at the summons of their leader they gathered in a circle. Kerriganlooked eagerly at Dr. O'Grady awaiting the signal to strike up "RuleBritannia. " Dr. O'Grady, unable to make himself heard through thecheering of the people, signalled a frantic negative. The strangerstepped out of his motor-car. Father McCormack, bowing low, advanced tomeet him. 

"It is my proud and pleasant duty, " he said, "to welcome your Excellencyto Ballymoy, and to assure you——"

"I want to see a gentleman called O'Grady, " said the stranger, "a Dr. O'Grady. "

"He's here, your Excellency, " said Father McCormack, "and there isn'ta man in Ballymoy who'll be more pleased to see your Excellency than hewill. "

"I'm not His Excellency. My name is Blakeney, Lord Alfred Blakeney. I'maide-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant, and I particularly want to see Dr. O'Grady. "

CHAPTER XIX

Lord Alfred Blakeney walked up the street and crossed the square withgreat dignity. He made no acknowledgment whatever of the cheers withwhich the people greeted him. They still thought that he was theLord-Lieutenant, and, expectant of benefits of some sort, they shoutedtheir best. He glanced at the veiled statue, but turned his eyes awayfrom it immediately, as if it were something obscene or otherwisedisgusting. He took no notice of Mary Ellen, though she smiled at him. Father McCormack and Doyle followed him, crestfallen. Major Kent, whoseemed greatly pleased, also followed him. Half way across the squareLord Alfred Blakeney turned round and asked which was Dr. O'Grady. Father McCormack pointed him out with deprecating eagerness, much asa schoolboy with inferior sense of honour when himself in danger ofpunishment, points out to the master the real culprit. Lord AlfredBlakeney's forehead wrinkled in a frown. His lips closed firmly. Hiswhole face wore an expression of dignified severity, very terrible tocontemplate. Dr. O'Grady seemed entirely unmoved. 

"I'm delighted to see you, " he said, "though we expected theLord-Lieutenant. By the way, you're not the Lord-Lieutenant, are you, byany chance?"

"My name is Blakeney, Lord Alfred Blakeney. "

"I was afraid you weren't, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Father McCormack andDoyle insisted that you were. But I knew that His Excellency must bea much older man. They couldn't very well make anybody of your ageLord-Lieutenant of Ireland, though I daresay you'd do very well, anddeserve the honour quite as much as lots of people that get it. "

Lord Alfred Blakeney had been at Eton as a boy and at Christchurch, Oxford, afterwards as a young man. He was a Captain in the GenadierGuards, and he was aide-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Itseemed quite impossible that an Irish dispensary doctor could betrying to poke fun at him. He supposed that Dr. O'Grady was lamentablyignorant. 

"I am here, " he said, "at His Excellency's express command——"

"Quite so, " said Dr. O'Grady. "We understand. You're his representative. He was pretty well bound to send somebody considering the way he'streated us, telegraphing at the last moment. We're quite ready to makeexcuses for him, of course, if he's got a sudden attack of influenzaor anything of that sort. At the same time he ought to have come unlesshe's very bad indeed. However, as you're here, we may as well be gettingon with the business. Where's Doyle?"

Doyle was just behind him. He was, in fact, plucking at Dr. O'Grady'ssleeve. He leaned forward and whispered:

"Speak a word to the gentleman about the pier. He's a high up gentlemansurely, and if you speak to him he'll use his influence with theLord-Lieutenant. "

"Be quiet, Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Go off and get the bouquet asquick as you can and give it to Mrs. Gregg. "

Lord Alfred Blakeney, who had gasped with astonishment at the end of Dr. O'Grady's last speech to him, recovered his dignity with an effort. 

"You evidently don't understand that I have come here, at theLord-Lieutenant's express command——"

"You said that before, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

"To ask for—in fact to demand an explanation of——"

"I should have thought that you'd have offered some sort of explanationto us. After all, we've been rather badly treated and——"

"An explanation, " said Lord Alfred sternly, "if any explanation ispossible, of the extraordinary hoax which you've seen fit to play on HisExcellency. "

A group of spectators formed a circle round Dr. O'Grady and Lord Alfred. Father McCormack, puzzled and anxious, stood beside Mrs. Gregg. TheMajor was at a little distance from them. Mary Ellen stood almost alonebeside the statue. The children of the town, attracted by some newexcitement, had left her, and in spite of Sergeant Colgan, were pushingtheir way towards Lord Alfred. Dr. O'Grady looked round him and frownedat the people. 

Then he took Lord Alfred by the arm and led him away to a corner of thesquare near the police barrack where there were very few people. 

"Now, " he said, "we can talk in peace. It's impossible to discussanything in the middle of a crowd. You seem to think that theLord-Lieutenant has some sort of grievance against us. What is it?"

"You surely understand that, " said Lord Alfred, "without my telling you. You've attempted to play off an outrageous hoax on the Lord-Lieutenantof Ireland. At least that's my view of it. "

"Quite a mistaken one!"

"The Lord-Lieutenant himself hopes that there may be some otherexplanation. That is why he sent me down here. He wants to give you thechance of clearing yourselves if you can. I may say frankly that if he'dasked my opinion I should——"

"You'd have put us in prison at once, " said Dr. O'Grady, "and kept usthere till we died. You'd have been perfectly right. We'd have deservedit richly if we really had——"

"Then you are prepared to offer an explanation?"

"I'll explain anything you like, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if you'll only tellme what your difficulty is. Oh, hang it! Excuse me one moment. Here'sthat ass Doyle coming at us again. "

Doyle had brought the bouquet out of the hotel and given it to Mrs. Gregg. He had warned Constable Moriarty not to allow the people to pressagainst the statue. He was crossing the square in the direction of thepolice barrack when Dr. O'Grady saw him and went to meet him. 

"Doctor, " said Doyle, "will you keep in mind what I was saying to youthis minute about the pier? Get a promise of it out of the gentleman. "

"It's utterly impossible for me, " said Dr. O'Grady, "to do anything ifyou keep interrupting me every minute. I'm in the middle of an extremelydifficult negotiation, and unless I'm allowed a free hand there'llcertainly be no pier. "

"If there's no pier, " said Doyle angrily, "it'll be the worse for you. Don't you forget, doctor, that you owe me a matter of £60, and if I'm atthe loss of more money over this statue——"

Constable Moriarty's voice rang out across the square. He was speakingin very strident tones. 

"Will you stand back out of that?" he said. "What business have youthere at all? Didn't I tell you a minute ago that you weren't to go nearthe statue?"

Dr. O'Grady and Doyle turned round to see what was happening. A man fromthe crowd, a well-dressed man, had slipped past Constable Moriarty andreached the statue. He had raised the bottom of the sheet which coveredit and was peering at the inscription on the pedestal. 

"Doyle, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that's the American again. That's Billing. "

"Bedamn!" said Doyle excitedly. "You're right. It's him sure enough. "

"Go and seize him. Take him into the hotel. Drag his subscription out ofhim if you have to use a knife to get it. Whatever happens don't let himgo again. "

Doyle realised what his duty was before Dr. O'Grady had stoppedspeaking. He ran across the square to the statue. Mr. Billing, heedlessof Moriarty's threats, was lifting the sheet still higher. He had readthe inscription and wanted to inspect the statue itself. Doyle seizedhim by the shoulder. 

"Come you along with me, " he said, "and come quiet if you don't want meto give you in charge of the police. "

Dr. O'Grady, watching from a distance, saw Mr. Billing marched offtowards the hotel. Then he turned to Lord Alfred again. 

"I must apologize, " he said, "for running away from you like that. Butwe couldn't have talked with that fellow, Doyle, pestering us. You don'tknow Doyle, of course. If you did, and if you happened to owe him alittle money you'd realise how infernally persistent he can be. "

Lord Alfred had also been watching the capture of Mr. Billing. He wantedto understand, if possible; what was going on round about him. 

"What is your friend doing with the other man?" he asked. 

"Only capturing him, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You needn't feel any anxietyabout that. The other man is an American and a thorough-paced swindler. Nothing will happen to him that he doesn't deserve. But we mustn't wastetime. We've still got to unveil the statue. You go on with what youwere saying. You were just going to tell me what the Lord-Lieutenant'sdifficulty is. "

"You invited His Excellency down here, " said Lord Alfred, "to unveil astatue——"

"Quite right. And we have the statue ready. There it is. " He pointed outthe statue as he spoke. 

"The statue, " said Lord Alfred, "purports to represent General JohnRegan. "

"It does represent him. There's no purporting about the matter. TheGeneral's name is on the pedestal. You'll see it yourself as soon as youunveil it. "

"It now appears, " said Lord Alfred coldly, "that there never was such aperson as General John Regan. "

"Well? Try and get along a little quicker. I don't see yet where theinsult to the Lord-Lieutenant is supposed to come in. "

"You asked the Lord-Lieutenant to unveil a faked-up statue, and you havethe amazing assurance to say now that you don't see that you've doneanything wrong. "

"I don't. "

"But there never was a General——"

"Do you mean to say, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that the Lord-Lieutenantsupposed that the General really existed?"

"Of course he supposed it. How could there be a statue to him if hedidn't? We all supposed it. It wasn't until His Excellency began toprepare the speech he was to make that we found out the truth. He wroteto the British Museum and to the Librarian at the Bodleian——"

"I'm sorry he took all that trouble. We didn't expect anything of thesort. "

"What did you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know. A few words about the elevating nature of great worksof art—particularly statues. You know the sort of thing I mean. How theEnglish nation occupies the great position it does very largely becauseit flocks to the Royal Academy regularly every year. How the people ofBallymoy are opening up a new era for Ireland. But I needn't go on. Youmust have heard him making speeches scores of times. That was all wewanted, and if we'd had the slightest idea that he was taking a lotof trouble to prepare a learned lecture we'd have told him that heneedn't. "

"But how could he make any speech about a General who never existed?"

"My dear Lord Alfred! What has the General got to do with it? We didn'twant a speech about him. We wanted one about his statue. "

"But it isn't his statue. If there was no General there can't be astatue to him. "

"There is, " said Dr. O'Grady. "There's no use flying in the face offacts. The statue's under that sheet. "

"It's not. I mean to say that there may be a statue there, but it's notto General John Regan. How can there be a statue to him when there wasno such person?"

"Was there ever such a person as Venus?" said Dr. O'Grady. "Therewasn't. And yet every museum in Europe is half full of statues of her. Was there ever such a person as the Dying Gladiator? Was there ever aman called Laocoon, who strangled sea serpents? You know perfectly wellthat there weren't any such people, and yet some of the most famousstatues in the world are erected in memory of them. "

"But His Excellency naturally thought——"

"Look here, " said Dr. O'Grady, "if we'd asked him to unveil a statue ofHercules in Ballymoy, would he have gone round consulting the librariansof London and Oxford to find out whether there was such a person asHercules or not? Would he have said he was insulted? Would he have sentyou here to ask for an apology? You know perfectly well he wouldn't. "

Lord Alfred seemed slightly puzzled. Dr. O'Grady's line of argument wasquite new to him. He felt sure that a fallacy underlay it somewhere, buthe could not at the moment see what the fallacy was. 

"The case of Hercules is quite different, " he said feebly. 

"It's not in the least different. It's exactly the same. There was nosuch person as Hercules. Yet there are several statues of him. There wasno such person as our General, but there may be lots of statues to him. There's certainly one. There's probably at least another. I should thinkthe people of Bolivia are sure to have one. We'll ask Billing when wesee him. "

"Is he the priest who mistook me for the Lord-Lieutenant?"

"Oh, no. He's the swindler whom Doyle caught. By the way, here's Doylecoming out of the hotel again. Do you mind if I call him?"

Doyle crossed the square very slowly, because he stopped frequentlyto speak to the people whom he saw. He stopped when he came to FatherMcCormack and whispered something to him. He stopped when he came toMajor Kent. He stopped for a moment beside Mrs. Gregg. He seemed to befull of some news and eager to tell it to everybody. When he saw Dr. O'Grady coming to meet him he hurried forward. 

"I have it, " he said, "I have it safe. "

"The cheque?" said Dr. O'Grady. 

"Better than that. Notes. Bank of Ireland notes. "

"Good, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Then it won't make so much matter if we don'tget the pier. I'm having a hard job with Lord Alfred. It appears thatthe Lord-Lieutenant is in a pretty bad temper, and it may not be easyto get the pier. However, I'll do my best. I wish you'd go and fetch theilluminated address. Is Thady Gallagher safe?"

"He's making a speech this minute within, in the bar, and Mr. Billing'slistening to him. "

"Good. Get the illuminated address for me now as quick as you can. "

Doyle hurried off in the direction of the hotel. Dr. O'Grady turned oncemore to Lord Alfred. 

"By the way, " he said, "before we go on with the unveiling of the statuewould you mind telling me this: Have you got an ear for music?"

Lord Alfred had recovered a little from the bewildering effect of Dr. O'Grady's argument. He reminded himself that he had a duty to perform. He regained with an effort his original point of view, and once morefelt sure that the Lord-Lieutenant had been grossly insulted. 

"I've listened to all you have to say, " he said, "and I still feel, in fact I feel more strongly than ever, that an apology is due to HisExcellency. "

"Very well, " said Dr. O'Grady, "I've no objection whatever toapologising. I'm extremely sorry that he was put to such a lot ofunnecessary trouble. If I'd had the least idea that he wouldn't haveunderstood about the General—— but I thought he'd have known. I stillthink he ought to have known. But I won't say a word about that. Tellhim from me that I'm extremely sorry. And now, have you an ear formusic?"

"That's not an apology, " said Lord Alfred. "I won't go back to HisExcellency and tell him—— hang it! I can't tell him all that stuff aboutVenus and Hercules. "

"I wish you'd tell me whether you have an ear for music or not. Youdon't understand the situation because you haven't met Thady Gallagher. But I can't ask you to unveil the statue until I know whether you've anear for music or not. "

"I don't know what you mean, but——"

Dr. O'Grady made a click with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He was becoming very impatient. 

"Well, I haven't, " said Lord Alfred. "I don't see what business it is ofyours whether I have or not; but anyhow, I haven't. "

"None at all? You wouldn't know one tune from another?"

"No, I wouldn't. And now will you tell me——"

"I'll tell you anything you like when this business is over. I haven'ttime to enter into long explanations now. The people are beginning toget very impatient. "

Young Kerrigan, with his bandsmen grouped around him, was standing alittle below the police barrack. Dr. O'Grady walked quickly over tohim. He told him to be ready to begin to play the moment he received thesignal. 

"And—— listen to me now, " he said. "You're to play some other tune, notthe one I taught you. "

"I'm just as glad, " said young Kerrigan. "It's equal to me what tune Iplay, but Thady Gallagher—What tune will I play?"

"Anything you like, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Whatever you know best, but notthe one I taught you. Remember that. "

He left young Kerrigan, and hurried over to where Major Kent, FatherMcCormack and Mrs. Gregg were standing together near the statue. 

"We're now going to unveil the statue, " he said, "and everybody mustbe ready to do his part. Father McCormack, I want you to take chargeof Mary Ellen. In the absence of the Lord-Lieutenant she'll pull thestring. You're to see that she does it when I give the word. Then youmust go across to the door of the hotel and keep a look out for ThadyGallagher. If he tries to make any sort of disturbance quell him atonce. "

"I'm willing to try, " said Father McCormack, "and so far as Mary Ellenis concerned I'm right enough. She's a good girl, and she'll do as I bidher. But it'd take more than me to pacify Thady when he hears the band. "

"It's all right about that the band won't play that tune at all. As ithappens Lord Alfred has no ear whatever for music. That lets us out ofwhat was rather an awkward hole. Young Kerrigan can play anything helikes, and so long as we all take off our hats, Lord Alfred'll thinkit's 'God Save the King. ' Thady won't be able to say a word. "

"If that's the way of it, " said Father McCormack, "I'll do the best Ican with Thady. "

"Mrs. Gregg, " said Dr. O'Grady, "you can't present that bouquet, so thebest thing for you to do is to step forward the moment the sheet dropsoff and deposit it at the foot of the statue. Major——"

"You may leave me out, " said Major Kent. "I'm merely a spectator. "

"You'll support Mrs. Gregg when she's paying her floral tribute to thememory of the dead General. "

"I'll do no such thing. "

"You must, Major. You can't let poor Mrs. Gregg go forward alone. "

"Please do, " said Mrs. Gregg. "I shall be frightfully nervous. "

"But—but—hang it all, O'Grady, how can I? What do you mean?"

"It's perfectly simple. Just walk forward beside her and smile. That'sall that's wanted. The band will be playing at the time and nobody willnotice you much. Now, I think everybody understands thoroughly what todo, and there's no reason why the proceedings shouldn't be a flamingsuccess in spite of the conduct of the Lord-Lieutenant. "

"What about the Lord-Lieutenant?" said Father McCormack. "I'd be glad ifI knew what the reason is of his not coming to us when he promised. "

"The reason's plain enough, " said the Major. "He evidently has somecommon sense. "

"As a matter of fact, " said Dr. O'Grady, "the exact contrary is thecase. What Lord Alfred says is that he wouldn't come because he foundout at the last moment that there was no such person as General JohnRegan. I don't call that sensible. "

"I was thinking all along, " said Father McCormack, "that there wassomething queer about the General. "

CHAPTER XX

Doyle came out of the hotel bringing the illuminated address. Dr. O'Grady took it from him and carried it over to Lord Alfred. 

"Just take this, " he said. 

Lord Alfred looked at the address doubtfully. It was very large, andseemed an awkward thing to carry about. 

"What is it?" he said. 

"It's an illuminated address. We intended to present it to theLord-Lieutenant, but of course we can't when he isn't here. You're totake it, and hand it over to him next time you see him. "

He pushed the address into Lord Alfred's arms as he spoke. 

Many men would have made some resistance, would have put their handsinto their pockets, perhaps, and so forced Dr. O'Grady either to holdthe frame himself or drop it on the ground. But Lord Alfred Blakeneyhad been aide-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant for several years. He knewsomething of the spirit which must animate all viceroys. It is theirbusiness to commend themselves, their office and the party whichappoints them to the people over whom they reign. In private aLord-Lieutenant with a sense of humour—no good Lord-Lieutenant oughtto have a sense of humour—may mock at the things he has to do, but inpublic, however absurd the position in which he finds himself, hemust remain gravely suave. His aides-de-camp must never under anycircumstances do anything which could possibly cause offence to anypart of the community. Dr. O'Grady was certainly a very important andinfluential part of the community of Ballymoy. Lord Alfred allowed theilluminated address to be pushed into his arms. He attempted no morethan a mild protest. 

"Can't I lay it down somewhere?" he said. "It's so huge. "

"Better not. If you do it's sure to be forgotten, and then we'll have toforward it by post, which will involve us in a lot of extra expense. "

"But it's so absurd to be lugging a great picture frame about in my armsall day, and I can't carry it any other way. It's too big. "

Dr. O'Grady, having made over the address to Lord Alfred, was notinclined to listen to any complaints about its size. He took off his hatand stepped forward towards the statue. 

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said. 

The few people who could see Dr. O'Grady stopped talking in order tohear what he was going to say. 

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said again. 

This time, the nearer people having stopped talking, his voice carriedfurther than it did at his first attempt. Very many more people turnedround and began to listen. 

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said. 

This third beginning secured him a large audience. Nearly half thepeople in the square were listening to him. He felt justified in goingon with his speech. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said, "we are now going to proceed with theunveiling of the statue of General John Regan. Mary Ellen, whom most ofyou know——"

He paused and the crowd cheered. A crowd nearly always cheers anyonewho is mentioned by name in a speech, unless it is quite plain that thespeaker means to be abusive. 

"Mary Ellen, " said Dr. O'Grady, "who is the nearest living relative ofthe great General, will perform the ceremony. Now, Mary Ellen, " he wenton, in a lower tone, "pull the string. Father McCormack, give her thestring. She doesn't seem able to find it. "

Father McCormack handed the end of the string to Mary Ellen. She chuckedat it in a timid, doubtful way. Nothing happened. 

"Pull harder, " said Dr. O'Grady. 

Sergeant Colgan, who was a benevolent man, and therefore anxious thatthe ceremony should be a success, stepped to Mary Ellen's side and laidhis hand on hers. He pulled hard. The sheet fluttered to the ground. Thecrowd cheered delightedly. 

"There now, " said Dr. O'Grady to Lord Alfred Blakeney, "I told you therereally was a statue under that sheet. Next time I say something to you Ihope you'll believe it. "

He held up his hand, and young Kerrigan, who was watching for thesignal, began to play at once. The tune he chose was an attractiveone which had achieved some popularity in a Dublin pantomime the yearbefore. Mrs. Gregg glanced dubiously at Dr. O'Grady, and then walkedtowards the statue with the bouquet in her hand. When she had gone fiveor six yards she stopped and looked round to see what had happened toMajor Kent. He was hanging back, but the piteous appeal in her eyesmoved him. He scowled ferociously at the doctor, and then with clenchedteeth and closely pressed lips joined Mrs. Gregg. Everybody cheered. The Major, in spite of being a landlord, was very popular in theneighbourhood. The cheers made him still more uncomfortable. He frownedwith embarrassment and anger. Mrs. Gregg laid her hand on his arm. Stillfrowning, he led her forward, very much as if he were taking her in todinner. Mrs. Gregg was frightened and nervous. She had only the vaguestidea of what she was expected to do. When she reached the base of thestatue she curtseyed deeply. The people cheered frantically. Major Kentdropped her arm and hurried away. He was a gentleman of an old-fashionedkind, and, partly perhaps because he had never married, was verychivalrous towards women. But Mrs. Gregg's curtsey and the cheers whichfollowed it were too much for him. His position had become intolerable. Mrs. Gregg, suddenly deserted by her escort, dropped the bouquet andfled. Sergeant Colgan picked it up and laid it solemnly at the foot ofthe statue. Young Kerrigan, stimulated by the cheers, worked the band upto a fortissimo performance of his tune. 

Dr. O'Grady held his hat in his hand. He signalled frantically to FatherMcCormack. He took off his hat, whispering to Major Kent as he did so. The Major, who was utterly bewildered, and not at all sure what washappening, took off his hat. Several other bystanders, supposing that itmust be right to stand bare-headed before a newly unveiled statue, tookoff theirs: Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him doubtfully. Most ofthe people near him had their hats in their hands. He took off his. 

The unusually loud noise made by the band reached Thady Gallagher in thebar of the hotel. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a speech which hewas making to Mr. Billing. After a moment's hesitation he rushed to thedoor of the hotel. The sight of the people, standing bare-headed andsilent while the band played, convinced him that Dr. O'Grady was in theact of perpetrating a treacherous trick upon the sincerely patriotic butunsuspecting inhabitants of Ballymoy. Standing at the door of the hotelhe shouted and waved his arms. Mr. Billing stood behind him looking onwith an expression of serious interest. Nobody could hear what Gallaghersaid. But Father McCormack and Doyle, fearing that he would succeed inmaking himself audible, hurried towards him. Doyle seized him by thearm, Gallagher shook him off angrily. 

"It shall never be said, " he shouted, "that I stood silent whilean insult was heaped upon Ballymoy and the cause of Nationalism inIreland. "

"Whisht, now whisht, " said Father McCormack. "Sure there's nothing to beangry about. "

"There is what would make any man angry, any man that has the welfare ofIreland at heart. That tune——"

"It isn't that tune at all, " said Father McCormack. "It's another onealtogether. "

"It's not another, " said Gallagher, "but it's the one I mean. Didn'tConstable Moriarty say it was?"

"Oughtn't you to listen to his reverence, " said Doyle, "more thanto Moriarty? But if you won't do that, can't you hear the tune foryourself?"

"I can hear it; and what's more I can see the Major with his hat off andthe young fellow that's down from Dublin Castle with his hat off, andthe doctor——"

"It's my belief, Thady, " said Doyle, "that you're three parts drunk. Itwould be better for you to go back into the hotel. "

He caught Gallagher by the arm as he spoke and held him fast YoungKerrigan reached the end of his tune with a triumphant flourish. Dr. O'Grady put on his hat again. One by one the various bystanders followedhis example. Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him, puzzled. 

"Surely that wasn't the National Anthem?" he said. 

"I thought, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that you didn't know one tune fromanother. "

"I don't; but, hang it all, a man can't be aide-decamp to His Excellencywithout getting to know the sound of the National Anthem. What tune wasit and why did we all take off our hats?"

"You tell the Lord-Lieutenant when you get back, " said Dr. O'Grady, "that we all, including Major Kent, who's a strong Unionist, stoodbare-headed while the band played. He'll be able to guess what tune itwas, and he'll be pleased. "

"But it wasn't the——"

"A speech will now be made, " said Dr. O'Grady, addressing the crowd, "by Lord Alfred Blakeney as representative of the Lord-Lieutenant ofIreland. "

"But I'm not, " said Lord Alfred clutching at Dr. O'Grady. "HisExcellency will be furious if he hears——"

"Go on, " said Dr. O'Grady pushing him towards the statue. "Stand on thepedestal. "

"But I can't make a speech. I'm not prepared. I've nothing to say. "

He was pushed forward remorselessly. At the very base of the statue heturned. 

"I hope there are no reporters present, " he said in a tone of despair. 

"There probably are lots, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Get up now and begin. Thepeople won't stand here all day. "

Lord Alfred Blakeney, still clasping the illuminated address in hisarms, was hustled on to the lowest step of the pedestal. The peoplecheered encouragingly. 

"Oh damn this great picture, " said Lord Alfred. "Do hold it for me. "

"Never mind it, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It's all right as it is. Make yourspeech. "

"Ladies and gentlemen, " said Lord Alfred, "I find myself standing hereto-day——"

"As representative of the Lord-Lieutenant, " said Dr. O'Grady, promptinghim. 

"But I'm not. I tell you he'll be angry. I can't make this speech. Ireally can't. "

"You can if you like, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Go on. "

"I stand here to-day, " said Lord Alfred, "at the unveiling of thisbeautiful statue——"

"Hear, hear, " said Doyle from the door of the hotel. "It's a grandstatue surely. "

"Go on, " said Dr. O'Grady. "You're doing capitally. Say something aboutthe grant from the Government for a new pier. "

"About what?" said Lord Alfred. 

"About a grant for a new pier, " said Dr. O'Grady, speaking distinctly. 

"But I've no authority. I can't. "

"£500 will satisfy us, " said Dr. O'Grady. "It's a mere trifle. After theshabby way the Lord-Lieutenant has behaved to us—but go on, anyway. "

"I have much pleasure, " said Lord Alfred Blakeney, "in declaring thisstatue—er—open—er—for public inspection. "

The crowd cheered loudly. Dr. O'Grady whispered to Lord Alfred that heought to say something about the value of the statue as a work of art. But this time Lord Alfred's will was stronger than the doctor's. Hejumped off the pedestal and flatly declined to mount it again. He wascrimson in the face with mortification and embarrassment. Then, whenthe cheering subsided a little, Mr. Billing's voice was heard, clearand incisive. He had pushed his way from the door of the hotel and wasstanding near the statue. 

"That's a darned poor speech, " he said. 

It is extraordinary how close the primitive barbarian is to the mostcivilised man. No one could have been more carefully trained than LordAlfred Blakeney. No one possessed more of that suave self-control whichdistinguishes a man of the governing classes from the members of themob. Yet Lord Alfred collapsed suddenly under the strain to which he hadbeen subjected. Mr. Billing's taunt threw him back to an earlier, a veryearly stage of development. 

"Make a better one yourself, then, " he said, "whoever you are. "

"I'll make one that'll create a sensation, anyhow, " said Mr. Billing. 

He stepped jauntily up the two steps of the pedestal. 

"Mr. Lord-Lieutenant, Right Reverend Sir, Ladies and Gentlemen, " hesaid. 

Lord Alfred Blakeney clutched Dr. O'Grady by the arm. 

"I'm not the Lord-Lieutenant, " he said desperately. 

"I'm not even his representative. Do try to make him understand that. "

"It doesn't in the least matter who you are, " said Dr. O'Grady. "Listento the speech. "

"When I first set eyes on this town a month ago I thought I had bumpedup against a most dead-alive, god-forsaken, one-horse settlement thatEurope could boast. "

The crowd, being as Gallagher always asserted intensely patriotic, wasnot at all pleased at this beginning. Several people groaned loudly. Mr. Billing listened to them with a bland smile. The people were stillfurther irritated and began to boo. Thady Gallagher broke suddenly fromDoyle's control, and rushed forward waving his arms. 

"Pull the Yank down out of that, " he shouted. "What right has he to bestanding there maligning the people of Ireland?"

Father McCormack and Doyle were after him at once and closed on him, each of them grasping one of his swinging arms. 

"Behave yourself, Thady, " said Father McCormack, "behave yourselfdecent. "

"Isn't it him that's paying for the statue, " said Doyle, "and hasn't hea right to say what he likes?"

Mr. Billing seemed quite unimpressed by Gallagher's fiery interruption. He smiled benevolently again. 

"I got bitten with the notion of speeding you up a bit, " he said, "because I felt plumb sure that there wasn't a live man in the place, nothing but a crowd of doddering hop-toads. "

The hop-toad is a reptile unknown in Ireland, but its name soundsdisgusting. The crowd began to get very angry, and surged threateninglytowards the platform. Sergeant Colgan felt that a great opportunity hadarrived. He had all his life been looking for a chance of quelling ariot. He had it at last. 

"Keep back, now, " he said, "keep back out of that. Do you want me todraw my baton to you?"

"Well, gentlemen, " said Mr. Billing, "I was mistaken and I own up. Thereis one live man in Ballymoy anyway. We haven't got a medical gentlemanon our side of the Atlantic equal to Dr. Lucius O'Grady. He has runthis show in a way that has surprised me considerable. He has erected astatue that will be an ornament to this town, and it's a pleasure to meto pay for it. "

"Hear, hear, " shouted Doyle. 

The crowd, which had been booing a minute before, cheered heartily. 

"He's fetched down the representative of the Lord-Lieutenant of thiscountry to unveil the statue!"

"I'm not, " said Lord Alfred feebly. "I wish I could get you tounderstand that I'm not his representative. "

His protest was lost in a fresh burst of cheers. 

"He has provided a charming grand-niece, " said Mr. Billing, "agrand-niece that any man, living or dead, might be proud of—-"

"Get out, " said Mary Ellen softly. 

"For General John Regan, " said Mr. Billing amidst tumultuous cheers, "and when I tell you that no such General ever existed in Bolivia oranywhere else, you'll be in a position to appreciate your doctor. "

Doyle dropped Gallagher's arm and rushed forward. The crowd, too, astonished by Mr. Billing's last words, even to cheer, stood silent. What Doyle said was plainly heard. 

"Be damn, doctor, but you're great, and I'd say that if it was the lastword ever I spoke. Ask him for the price of the new pier now and he'llgive it to you. "

"Gentlemen, " said Mr. Billing, "if 2, 000 dollars will build the pierMr. Doyle wants, I'll give it with pleasure, and I reckon that the showwhich Dr. O'Grady has run is cheap at the price. "

Sergeant Colgan stepped forward with slow dignity. He beckoned toConstable Moriarty. His face wore an expression of steady determination. 

"It would be better, doctor, " he said, "if you and the other gentlemenpresent would move away. The demeanour of the crowd is threatening. "

The demeanour of the crowd was, in fact, hilarious; but Dr. O'Gradyunderstood that there are limits to the patience of the officialguardians of law and order. The police—the fact is exemplified in theiroccasional dealings with the students of Trinity College—appreciatea joke as well as any men, and up to a certain point are tolerant ofmerriment. But it is possible to go too far, and there is a point atwhich fooling becomes objectionable. Dr. O'Grady took Mr. Billing by thearm. 

"Come along, " he said, "and let us have a drink of some sort, andsomething to eat. There's no reason why we shouldn't have something toeat. Doyle has a magnificent luncheon spread out in his hotel. Run inDoyle, and tell the cook to dish up the potatoes. Major, you bring Mrs. Gregg along with you. I'm sure Mrs. Gregg wants something to eat. LordAlfred, I'm sorry we haven't a lady for you to take in, but FatherMcCormack will show you the way. "

"If this business gets into the papers, " said Lord Alfred, "theFreeman's Journal will make capital of it, and the Irish Times will saythe Government must resign at once. Can't we square the reporters?"

"There aren't any, " said Dr. O'Grady, "unless Gallagher's been takingnotes. Come along. "

The party, Doyle at the head of it, passed into the hotel. SergeantColgan turned and faced the crowd. His hand was on the baton at hisside. His face and attitude were majestic. 

"Get along home now, every one of yous, " he said. 

"Get along out of that!" said Constable Moriarty. 

In twos and threes, in little groups of ten and twelve, silentlyobedient, the crowd slunk away. The statue of General John Regan wasleft looking down upon an empty market place. So the last word is spokenin the pleasant drama of Irish life. The policeman speaks it. "Getalong home out of that, every one of you. " So the curtain drops on ourperformances. In spite of our whirling words we bow to, in the end, thevoice of authority. 

THE END