“The fact is,” he said, “that I wouldn’t go near the meeting if I could help it.”
“Is there anything against that General then?”
“It’s not that. It’s simply that I loathe and detest all public meetings, and I wouldn’t go to this one or any other if I could get out of it.”
“And why can’t you get out of it? A man needn’t go to a meeting unless he likes.”
“He must,” said the Major, “I must; any man must, if Dr. O’Grady gets at him.”
“That’s true, too,” said Father McCormack, “and I don’t mind telling you that I’ve been keeping out of the doctor’s way ever since Doyle asked me. I’d rather not see him till I have my mind made up the one way or the other.”
It was unfortunate for Father McCormack that Dr. O’Grady should at that moment have walked into the Major’s study without even knocking at the door. He had just received answers to his letters from four of the most eminent Irish Members of Parliament He had asked them all to attend a meeting at Ballymoy and make speeches about General John Regan. They had all refused, offering the very flimsiest excuses. Dr. O’Grady was extremely indignant.
“I don’t see what on earth use there is,” he blurted out, “in our keeping Members of Parliament at all. Here we are paying these fellows £400 a year each, and when we ask for a perfectly simple speech—— Oh, I beg your pardon, Father McCormack, I didn’t see you were here. But I daresay you quite agree with me. Every one must.”
“Father McCormack came here,” said the Major, “to ask about General John Regan.”
“Who is he at all?” said the priest.