“It wasn’t a situation for Mary Ellen I was thinking of,” said Moriarty.
“In the name of God,” said Doyle, “will you tell us what it is you have in your mind?”
“What I was thinking,” said Moriarty, “was that if the matter was represented to the Lord-Lieutenant in a proper manner—-about Mary Ellen being the General’s niece and all to that—he might, maybe, see his way to making me a sergeant. It was that I was saying to you, Mary Ellen, wasn’t it, now?”
“It was,” said Mary Ellen.
“The idea of trotting out Mary Ellen on the occasion isn’t at all a bad one,” said Dr. O’Grady. “I’ll see what can be done about it.”
“I’m obliged to you,” said Moriarty.
“But I don’t promise that you’ll be made a sergeant, mind that now.”
“Sure I know you couldn’t promise that,” said Moriarty. “But you’ll do the best you can. Come along now, Mary Ellen. It’s pretty near time for me to be going on patrol, and the sergeant will check me if I’m late.”
“There’s something in that idea of Moriarty’s,” said Dr. O’Grady, when he and Doyle were alone again.
“I don’t see what good will come of it,” said Doyle, “and I’m doubting whether Thady Gallagher will be pleased. Mary Ellen’s mother was a cousin of his own.”