Grace

`And who else?'

`Harford.'

`Hm,' said Mr Cu

When Mr Cu

`I wonder where did he go to,' said Mr Kernan.

He wished the details of the incident to remain vague. He wished his friends to think there had been some mistake, that Mr Harford and he had missed each other. His friends, who knew quite well Mr Harford's ma

`All's well that ends well.'

Mr Kernan changed the subject at once.

`That was a decent young chap, that medical fellow,' he said. `Only for him—'

`O, only for him,' said Mr Power, `it might have been a case of seven days, without the option of a fine.'

`Yes, yes,' said Mr Kernan, trying to remember. `I remember now there was a policeman. Decent young fellow, he seemed. How did it happen at all?'

`It happened that you were peloothered, Tom,' said Mr Cu

`True bill,' said Mr Kernan, equally gravely.

`I suppose you squared the constable, Jack,' said Mr M'Coy.

Mr Power did not relish the use of his Christian name. He was not strait-laced, but he could not forget that Mr M'Coy had recently made a crusade in search of valises and portmanteaux to enable Mrs M'Coy to fulfil imaginary engagements in the country. More than he resented the fact that he had been victimized, he resented such low playing of the game. He answered the question, therefore, as if Mr Kernan had asked it.

The narrative made Mr Kernan indignant. He was keenly conscious of his citizenship, wished to live with his city on terms mutually honourable and resented any affront put upon him by those whom he called country bumpkins.

`Is this what we pay rates for?' he asked. `To feed and clothe these ignorant bostooms... and they're nothing else.'

Mr Cu

`How could they be anything else, Tom?' he said.

He assumed a thick, provincial accent and said in a tone of command:

`65, catch your cabbage!'

Everyone laughed. Mr M'Coy, who wanted to enter the conversation by any door, pretended that he had never heard the story; Mr Cu

`It is supposed — they say, you know — to take place in the depot where they get these thundering big country fellows, omadhauns, you know, to drill. The sergeant makes them stand in a row against the wall and hold up their plates.' He illustrated the story by grotesque gestures.

`At di

Everyone laughed again: but Mr Kernan was somewhat indignant still. He talked of writing a letter to the papers.

`These yahoos coming up here,' he said, `think they can boss the people. I needn't tell you, Martin, what kind of men they are.'

Mr Cu

`It's like everything else in this world,' he said. `You get some bad ones and you get some good ones.'

`O yes, you get some good ones, I admit,' said Mr Kernan, satisfied.

`It's better to have nothing to say to them,' said Mr M'Coy. `That's my opinion!'

Mrs Kernan entered the room and, placing a tray on the table, said:

`Help yourselves, gentlemen.'

Mr Power stood up to officiate, offering her his chair. She declined it, saying she was ironing downstairs, and, after having exchanged a nod with Mr Cu

`And have you nothing for me, duckie?'

`O, you! The back of my hand to you!' said Mrs Kernan tartly.

Her husband called after her:

`Nothing for poor little hubby!'

He assumed such a comical face and voice that the distribution of the bottles of stout took place amid general merriment.

The gentlemen drank from their glasses, set the glasses again on the table and paused. Then Mr Cu

`On Thursday night, you said, Jack?'

`Thursday, yes,' said Mr Power.

`Righto!' said Mr Cu

`We can meet in M'Auley's,' said Mr M'Coy. `That'll be the most convenient place.'

`But we mustn't be late,' said Mr Power earnestly, `because it is sure to be crammed to the doors.'

`We can meet at half-seven,' said Mr M'Coy.

`Righto!' said Mr Cu

`Half-seven at M'Auley's be it!'

There was a short silence. Mr Kernan waited to see whether he would be taken into his friends' confidence. Then he asked:

`What's in the wind?'

`O, it's nothing,' said Mr Cu

`The opera, is it?' said Mr Kernan.

`No, no,' said Mr Cu

`O,' said Mr Kernan.

There was silence again. Then Mr Power said, point-blank:

`To tell you the truth, Tom, we're going to make a retreat.'

`Yes, that's it,' said Mr Cu

He uttered the metaphor with a certain homely energy and, encouraged by his own voice, proceeded:

`You see, we may as well all admit we're a nice collection of scoundrels, one and all. I say, one and all,' he added with gruff charity and turning to Mr Power. `Own up now!'

`I own up,' said Mr Power.

`And I own up,' said Mr M'Coy.

`So we're going to wash the pot together,' said Mr Cu

A thought seemed to strike him. He turned suddenly to the invalid and said:

`D'ye know what, Tom, has just occurred to me? You might join in and we'd have a four-handed reel.'

`Good idea,' said Mr Power. `The four of us together.'

Mr Kernan was silent. The proposal conveyed very little meaning to his mind, but, understanding that some spiritual agencies were about to concern themselves on his behalf, he thought he owed it to his dignity to show a stiff neck. He took no part in the conversation for a long while, but listened, with an air of calm enmity, while his friends discussed the Jesuits.

`I haven't such a bad opinion of the Jesuits,' he said, intervening at length. `They're an educated order. I believe they mean well, too.'

`They're the grandest order in the Church, Tom,' said Mr Cu

`There's no mistake about it,' said Mr M'Coy, `if you want a thing well done and no flies about, you go to a Jesuit. They're the boyos have influence. I `Il tell you a case in point... '

`The Jesuits are a fine body of men,' said Mr Power.

`It's a curious thing,' said Mr Cu