“You and your old tune!” said Doyle. “You had the life plagued out of me about that tune. Can’t you let it alone?”
“I will not let it alone, for——”
“Was it that you were talking to the priest about?”
“It was, and——”
“I thought it might have been,” said Doyle, “by the look of him. Why can’t you have sense, Thady, instead of tormenting the whole town about a tune?”
“It’s my belief,” said Gallagher, “that he knows more about the tune than he’d care to own up to. He and the doctor is in the conspiracy together.”
“I’ll not stand here listening to you talking disrespectfully about the clergy,” said Doyle with a fine show of indignation.
He felt that he was on doubtful ground in discussing the tune, which might, for all he knew, be an objectionable one. It was a satisfaction to be able to put himself definitely in the right by protesting against Gallagher’s tendency to anti-clericalism.
“I’d be the last man in Ireland,” said Gallagher, “that would say a word against the clergy, but when we get Home Rule—and that won’t be long now, please God——”
He paused impressively.