“There might be,” said Father McCormack, “if Thady Gallagher knows what tune it is.”
“He won’t,” said Dr. O’Grady. “You didn’t know yourself, Father McCormack, and if you didn’t I’m quite satisfied that Thady Gallagher won’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 dark grey 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 the dressmaker yesterday evening just as you told me. I had the whole thing arranged. 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 just got a note from her saying that a dark grey tweed would be much more suitable because it would be useful afterwards.”
“It seems to me,” said Dr. O’Grady, “that you haven’t managed this business quite as tactfully as I expected you would.”
“Mrs. Ford said she was going straight to the dress-maker to order the grey tweed. She’s there now, most likely.”
Mrs. Gregg’s voice had a break in it. It seemed to Dr. O’Grady that she was on the verge of tears. He turned to Mary Ellen.