“As long as the sacredness of our homes is invaded,” said Gallagher, “and the virtues of our families corrupted by the overfed minions of the landlord class——”
“Oh, do shut up, Thady,” said the doctor. “We all know that stuff off by heart, and you must try to recollect that the Major’s a Unionist. He can’t be expected to listen to you peaceably; and if we don’t run this statue business on strictly non-political lines we’ll never be able to carry it through.”
“Whisht now, Thady, whisht,” said Doyle soothingly; “sure the sergeant is doing you no harm.”
Mr. Billing clicked his shutter again. Sergeant Colgan and Constable Moriarty relapsed from their strained attitudes and breathed freely.
“Got the lower storey all right?” said Dr. O’Grady. “Good. I daresay now you’d like to toddle around with Thady Gallagher and see the General’s birthplace. I’m sorry I can’t go with you myself, but I happen to be rather busy. There are two old women with rheumatism expecting bottles from me in the course of the afternoon.”
“I’ll fold up the camera,” said Mr. Billing, “and start at once.”
“Doctor,” said Gallagher anxiously, “what’ll I do when he starts asking me questions about the General?”
“Answer him, of course,” said Dr. O’Grady.
“How can I, when I never heard tell of the General till to-day. For the love of God, doctor dear, will you tell me who he was?”
“Thady,” said the doctor, “I’m ashamed of you. Aren’t you a politician? You are, and well you know it. Aren’t you a newspaper editor? You are, there’s no use denying it. Don’t you spend your whole life either talking or writing on subjects that you know nothing about? You do. And what on earth’s the use of your pretending now that you can’t answer a few simple questions about General John Regan? There now, he’s got his camera folded up and he’s waiting for you. Be off at once.”