“Look here, O’Grady,” said the Major. “You’d far better drop this whole business. What’s the good of going on with it? A joke’s a joke all right, but there’s no use pushing things too far.”
“What Ford’s trying to do,” said Gregg, “is to crab the Lord-Lieutenant part of the business. I thought I’d better tell you, so that you’d know exactly how things stand.”
“You’ve not told me much, so far,” said Dr. O’Grady. “What’s Ford’s particular line?”
“I expect he has more than one card up his sleeve,” said Gregg, “but what he said to me this morning was that you couldn’t possibly have the Lord-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 in my pocket this minute——. It came by the midday post, just before the meeting, and I haven’t shown it to anyone yet. He’s coming this day fortnight, and will unveil the statue with the greatest pleasure.”
“That settles it,” said the Major, “you’ll have to drop it now, whether you want to or not. You can’t possibly have a statue ready by this day fortnight.”
“Ford’s point,” said Gregg—“and there’s something in it, you know—is that the Lord-Lieutenant can’t attend a public function unless ‘God Save the King’ is played when he arrives. He simply must have that tune on account of his position. That’s what Ford says, anyhow. And I’m inclined to 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 to play ‘God Save the King’——”
“I don’t think you can really,” said Gregg. “I know you have a lot of influence with these fellows, but that blackguard Gallagher would get their backs up and——”