The Major received this remark in silence. He was of opinion that a man who went a long journey in order to discover a second Dr. O’Grady would be a fool.
“Tell me this,” said Father McCormack. “What relation is Mary Ellen to the General?”
“I’ve never been able to make that out for certain. Sometimes I’m told she’s his niece, and sometimes his grand-niece.”
Father McCormack looked round him cautiously and sank his voice to a whisper.
“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 room again.
“I’ve settled that matter satisfactorily anyhow,” he said. “It occurred to me just after Mrs. Gregg had left the room, that some sort of fancy dress for the girl would be likely to please the Lord-Lieutenant, and would be a compromise which both ladies could accept without loss of dignity. Mary Ellen is to be rigged out as a traditional Irish colleen, the sort you see on the picture postcards they sell to tourists in Dublin. Mrs. Gregg is delighted, and Mrs. Ford can’t possibly say that a crimson flannel skirt won’t be useful to her afterwards. She’ll look uncommonly well, and the Lord-Lieutenant will be all the more inclined to 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 or is she not?”