It was ten o'clock before these arrangements were completed and the step-ladders taken away. Dr. O'Grady went into the barrack and warned Sergeant Colgan that he would be held personally responsible if any curious wayfarer pulled the string before the proper time. Sergeant Colgan at once ordered Moriarty to mount guard over the statue. Dr.

O'Grady went over to the hotel and inspected the luncheon table. He had laid it himself the night before, so he felt fairly confident that everything was as it should be; but he was not inclined to run any risks. It was just possible that Doyle, acting on advice from somebody else, might have altered the position of the spoons and forks during the night.

"It'll be after lunch," said Dr. O'Grady, "that we'll introduce the subject of a pier."

"Then or sooner," said Doyle.

"Hints will have been given before that," said Dr. O'Grady. "Father McCormack has promised to touch on the undeveloped condition of our fishing industry when he's making his introductory remarks previous to the unveiling of the statue. If I get half a chance, I mean to point out what excellent stones there are in that old mill of yours. The matter is distinctly alluded to at the end of the illuminated address, but I'm afraid they're not likely to read that till they get back to Dublin, if then. I suppose, by the way, the address has arrived all right?"

"It has," said Doyle, "but I haven't it unpacked yet. It's in a case."

"We'd better have it quite ready. Get a screwdriver, will you, and a hammer."

The address turned out to be very large indeed and most magnificently coloured. In the top left-hand corner was a small photograph of the market square of Ballymoy, without the statue. In the right-hand Corner was a picture, supplied by Mr. Aloysius Doyle, of the statue itself. In the bottom left-hand corner was a photograph of the Viceregal Lodge in the Phoenix Park, and opposite it a portrait of the Lord-Lieutenant in his state robes. The whole left-hand side of the address was occupied by an immensely complicated design made up of spirals, serpents, and trumpet pattern ornaments, which twisted in and out of each other in a way most bewildering to the eye. This was supposed to represent the manner in which ancient Irish artists made the letter "t," when they were not in a hurry. "T" is the first letter of the word "to" with which the actual address began. The words "Excellency," "Lord," and "Lieutenant" were similarly honoured with capital letters of Celtic design, but inferior size. "Ireland," which came on a line to itself, was blazoned in red and green, on a background of dull gold, laid on smoothly, and afterwards dinted here and there with some instrument which must have resembled a blunt pin. The rest of the letter-press was done in crooked, angular characters, very ornamental to look at, but most difficult to read.

"It's a good address, so it is," said Doyle, "and worth the money, though, mind you, it was a big lot we gave for it. A cheaper one would have done well enough."

"I call it cheap at the price," said Dr. O'Grady. "I'd no idea you could get so much for 4. Now what about the bouquet?"

"I have it in a jug of water," said Doyle, "under the counter of the bar. I thought it would be better in water the way it would be fresh."

"Quite right. But be sure you wipe the stalks before you give it to Mrs. Gregg. It doesn't so much matter about Lady Chesterton. She must be pretty well accustomed to handling damp bouquets. But I'd be sorry to spoil Mrs. Gregg's new gloves. She's sure to have new gloves. By the way, what's being done about getting Mary Ellen ready? That girl can't be trusted to dress herself."

"Mrs. Gregg is putting the clothes on her this minute," said Doyle, "above in the best bedroom. She said she'd do it early so as she'd have time after to go home and dress herself."

"There's been no trouble with Moriarty, I suppose? I told you about the way he threatened me, didn't I?"

"He hasn't said a word to me, but he's a fellow I wouldn't trust further than I can see him, and he's had an ugly look about him this three days, like as if he had some mischief in his mind."

"I wouldn't trust him either," said Dr. O'Grady; "but I don't see what he could do. He wouldn't venture to meddle with the statue, would he?

Tangle up the strings we have tied to the sheet or anything of that sort?"

"He would not; for he knows well it would be the worse for him if he did. It's not likely Mr. Gregg would overlook it if Moriarty did anything that put a stop to Mrs. Gregg presenting the bouquet."

"We'll have to chance it anyway, and I don't see that he can do much except sulk, and that won't hurt us. I think I'll be getting home now, Doyle. I have to shave and generally clean up a bit before the Viceregal party arrives. You don't own a silk hat, I suppose?"

"I do not. What would I have the like for?"

"You might have worn it if you had," said Dr. O'Grady. "My own is so old that I'm ashamed to put it on. However, it doesn't really matter.

Both the Major and Father McCormack are sure to have them, so the Lord-Lieutenant won't notice that you and I haven't and n.o.body would expect much from Thady Gallagher. After all, our hats will be in our hands most of the time, and we can keep them behind our backs."

At half-past eleven Mary Ellen and Mrs. Gregg came out of the hotel together. Mary Ellen's costume was beautifully complete. An English tourist accustomed to buy the coloured picture postcards with which the Germans obligingly supply our shops, would have recognised her at once as an Irish colleen. Her stockings were of the brightest shade of green.

Her shoes, which were highly polished, had aggressively square toes and enormous steel buckles which flashed in the sunlight as she walked. Her skirt reached half way down the calves of her legs. It was of crimson flannel, made very wide. A green and black tartan shawl was fastened round her with a large Tara brooch which also held in its place a trail of shamrock. Underneath the shawl she had a green silk blouse. It showed very little but it exactly matched her stockings. Her hair was brushed smoothly back from her forehead, and covered with a black and white-checked kerchief tied beneath her chin and falling in a neat triangle at the nape of her neck. Mrs. Gregg, who was naturally very pleased, led Mary Ellen over to the statue, placed her beside it, and told her not to move or in any way disorder her dress. Then she herself hurried away.

Constable Moriarty, who was on guard beside the statue, scowled at Mary Ellen. He approached her slowly, walked round her, surveyed her from every point of view, and then snorted with intense disapproval.

"Your mother wouldn't know you," he said.

Mary Ellen smiled. She was greatly pleased at her own appearance and chose to take Moriarty's remark as a compliment.

"She might not," she said, in a tone of evident delight.

Moriarty intended to say more; but at that moment the town band began to play. Young Kerrigan had collected the members of it early in the day and kept them in a group outside his father's shop. The arrival of Mary Ellen seemed to him to be a suitable occasion for a tune. He gave a signal and the band struck up. "Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore"

was the tune on which they chanced. It was remarkably appropriate. The band marched twice round the statue playing that tune. With the last note it came to rest again in its old position outside Kerrigan's shop.

Then Thady Gallagher came out of his office. He walked over and looked at Mary Ellen.

"If you're not ashamed of yourself," he said, "you ought to be."

"I am not, then," said Mary Ellen.

Gallagher turned to Moriarty.

"You're sure now," he said, "that the tune the band is to play is the one you told me."

Moriarty grinned malevolently.

"I am sure," he said.

"For if you're playing any kind of a trick on me??"

"I am not. Amn't I wanting to get my knife into the doctor the same as yourself?"

"And why would you want that?"

"It's on account of the way he has Mary Ellen dressed up. Will you look at the girl?"

Gallagher looked at her again, long and carefully.

"Play acting!" said Moriarty, "and she's a respectable girl. It's not decent, so it's not."

"If the tune's what you say it is," said Gallagher, "it'll not be played in Ballymoy to-day nor any other day. I'll put the fear of G.o.d into young Kerrigan before he's an hour older."

Moriarty grinned again. It seemed that, with the aid of Gallagher, he was going to hit Dr. O'Grady on a vital spot. He understood that great importance was attached to the performance of "Rule, Brittania" by the band. Gallagher walked across to young Kerrigan.

"I know now," he said, "what the tune is you're meaning to play."

"If you know that," said Kerrigan, "you know more than I do."

"None of your lies now. Constable Moriarty is after telling me the name of the tune."

"If you know it," said Kerrigan, "maybe you'll tell me. Not that I care what the name of it is, for it's a good tune, name or no name."

"You will care," said Gallagher. "You will care before the day is out."

"Why don't you tell me the name of it, then? if so be you know it."

"You know well why I don't tell you. It's because I wouldn't defile my lips with the name of it, because I wouldn't say the words that would be a disgrace to any Irishman."

"You're mighty particular," said young Kerrigan. "It would have to be a pretty bad name that's on the tune if it's worse than what you said many a time."