“Nobody wants politics,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The address will contain nothing but nice little compliments to the Lord-Lieutenant with a word or 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,” said Doyle, “it’ll be done right. They’ve illuminated three-quarters of the addresses that have been presented in the country, and whether it’s a bank manager or a priest going on a new mission, or a Lord-Lieutenant that 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 that this is a seaport town with no proper pier. With that information any fool could draw up the text of an illuminated address. I propose that the 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,” he said, “and speaking of the duty of supporting Irish manufacture, I’m of opinion that his words do him credit. I’m an out and out supporter of the Industrial Revival, and when I look round about me on the ruined mills that once were hives of industry, and the stream of emigration which 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.