“It’s a queer thing, now,” said Affy, “that the two of them reverend gentlemen should have the same name, and that Manders.”
“We’ll drop that subject,” said the Doctor.
“We will, of course, if it’s pleasing to you. But it is queer all the same, and I’d be glad if I knew the reason of it, for it must be mighty confusing for the people of this place, both Catholic and Protestant. Tell me now, doctor, is there any fear that I might be took by the police?”
“Not a bit. That affair of yours, whatever it was, is blown over long ago.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“I am.”
“Then as soon as I’m fit I’ll take a bit of a stroll out and look at the old place. I’d like to see it again. Many’s the time I’ve said to myself, me being, may be, in some far-away country at the time, ‘I’d like to see Ballintra again, and the house where my mother lived, and the bohireen that the asses does be going along into the bog when the turf’s brought home.’ Is it there yet?”
“I expect it is,” said the doctor.
“God is good,” said Affy. “It’s little ever I expected to set eyes on it.”