“But I can’t wait. Mrs. Ford is down at the dress-maker’s now. It’ll be too late if I wait. What am I to do? It will spoil the whole thing if Mrs. 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’s nothing 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 to ask Father McCormack one question. Listen now, Father McCormack. Do you know this tune?”
He began to whistle “Rule, Britannia.” When he was about half way through Mrs. Gregg interrupted him.
“I can’t wait,” said Mrs. Gregg. “I really can’t. Mrs. Ford is at the dressmaker’s and——”
“I’ll attend to that in one minute, Mrs. Gregg. But I must get Father McCormack’s opinion on this tune first. Doyle and Gallagher may arrive at any moment, and then I shan’t be able to go into the question. Now Father McCormack, do you recognise the tune I whistled you?”
“I’ve heard it,” said Father McCormack, “and to the best of my belief it was at a military tournament up in Dublin last year.”
“It’s ‘Rule, Britannia,’” said the Major. “And if it’s played in this town there’ll be a row.”