“Well,” said Doyle, “what’ll you do to the clergy when you get Home Rule?”
“There’s some of them that will be put in their places mighty quick, them that’s opposing the will of the people of Ireland behind their backs.”
“If you mean Father McCormack, Thady, you’d better go home before you’ve said what you’ll be sorry for.”
“I’ll not go home till I’ve told the doctor what I think of him.”
“Well, go and see him,” said Doyle. “He’s in his house. When you come back you can tell me what he says to you. That’ll be better worth hearing than anything you’re likely to say to him.”
Doyle looked round with an air of some satisfaction when Gallagher left him. He had no doubt that Dr. O’Grady would be able to deal satisfactorily with the difficulty about the tune. Everything else seemed to be going well. A considerable number of people had already gathered in the square. The band stood ready to play. Father McCormack was apparently very much pleased with the appearance of Mary Ellen. Constable Moriarty was on guard over the statue, looking unusually stern. Sergeant Colgan had come out of the barrack and was exerting all his authority to keep back a number of small children who wanted to investigate Mary Ellen’s costume. Every time any of them approached her with the intention of pulling her shawl or testing by actual touch the material of her skirt, Sergeant Colgan spoke majestically.
“Get away out of that,” he said. “Get along home out of that, the whole of yez.”
The children did not, of course, obey him literally; but they always drew back from Mary Ellen when he spoke, and it was generally at least a minute before the boldest of them ventured to touch her again.