“That’s so,” said Teddy Malone, “somethin’ quiet an’ orderly, like an Irish wake, or—. Ah! then ye needn’t smile, doctor. It’s the quietest an’ most comfortin’ thing in life is an Irish wake whin it’s gone about properly.”
“But we don’t want comforting, Teddy,” said Dominick, “it is rather a subject for rejoicing.”
“Well, then, what’s to hinder us rejoicin’ in comfort?” returned Teddy. “At all the wakes I ivver attinded there was more rejoicin’ than comfortin’ goin’ on; but that’s a matter of taste, av coorse.”
“There’ll have to be a crown o’ some sort,” remarked Hugh Morris.
“You’re right, lad,” said Joe Binney. “It wouldn’t do to make it o’ pasteboard, would it? P’r’aps that ’ud be too like playin’ at a game, an’ tin would be little better.”
“What else can we make it of, boys?” said Malone, “we’ve got no goold here—worse luck! but maybe the carpenter cud make wan o’ wood. With a lick o’ yellow paint it would look genuine.”
“Nonsense, Teddy,” said the doctor, “don’t you see that in this life men should always be guided by circumstances, and act with propriety. Here we are on an island surrounded by coral reefs, going to elect a queen; what more appropriate than that her crown should be made of coral.”
“The very thing, doctor,” cried Malone, with emphasis, “och! it’s the genius ye have! There’s all kinds o’ coral, red and white, an’ we could mix it up wi’ some o’ that fine-coloured seaweed to make it purty.”
“It could be made pritty enough without seaweed,” said Binney, “an’ it’s my notion that the women-folk would be best at makin’ of it.”
“Right, Joe, right, so, if you have no objection, we will leave it to them,” said Dominick, “and now as to the ceremonial?”