“If I’m the treasurer it’s no more than right that I should have some say in the way the money’s being spent, for let me tell you, doctor—and I may as well speak plain when I’m at it—I’m not satisfied. I’ve had some correspondence with a nephew of mine who’s in that line of business himself up in Dublin, and he tells me that £100 is little enough for a statue of any size. Now I’m not saying that I want to close the account with a balance in hand——”
“It’s what you do want, Doyle, whether you say it or not.”
“But,” said Doyle ignoring this interruption, “it wouldn’t suit me if there was any debt at the latter end. For it’s myself would have to pay it if there was, and that’s what I’d not be inclined to do. The way you’re spending money on posters and advertisements there’ll be very little of the American gentleman’s £100 left when it comes to buying the statue.”
“I see your point all right, Doyle, but——”
“If you see it,” said Doyle, “I’m surprised at you going on the way you are; but, sure, I might have known that you wouldn’t care how much you’d spend or how much you’d owe at the latter end. There’s that £60——”
“Don’t harp on about that miserable £60,” said Dr. O’Grady, “for I won’t stand it. Here I am doing the very best I can to make money for you, taking no end of trouble, and all you do is to come grumbling to me day after day about some beggarly account that I happen to owe you.”
“It’s what I don’t see is how I’m going to make a penny out of it at all, the way you’re going on.”
“Listen to me now, Doyle. Supposing—I just say supposing—the Government was to build a pier, a new pier, in Ballymoy, who do you think would get the contract for the job?”
“I would, of course,” said Doyle, “for there’d be no other man in the town fit to take it.”
“And how much do you suppose you’d make out of it?”