“I wrote to him, or rather I got Doyle to write to him, the day before yesterday, and the letter you are now going to hear is his reply. I may say that we laid the circumstances full before him; especially the shortness of the time. You’re not the only person who thought of that difficulty, Major. Just read the letter, will you, Doyle?” Doyle took up the letter which lay on the table in front of him and unfolded it. He glanced at it and then put it down and began to fumble in his pocket. “Go ahead,” said Dr. O’Grady. “I can’t,” said Doyle. “This isn’t that letter, but another one altogether.” He drew his packet of papers from his pocket again and began to go through them rapidly. There was a light tap at the door. “Who on earth’s that?” said Dr. O’Grady. “I said specially that this meeting was not to be disturbed.” “Possibly Doyle’s nephew,” said the Major, “with a sample statue. He ought to submit samples to us.” “Come in whoever you are,” said Dr. O’Grady. Mary Ellen half opened the door and put her head into the room. Dr. O’Grady realised the moment he saw her that something must have gone wrong in the dressmaker’s shop. He assumed, without enquiry, that Mrs. Ford had been making herself objectionable. “What has Mrs. Ford done now?” said Dr. O’Grady. “I can’t go to her till this meeting is over.” “Mrs. Ford’s off home this half hour,” said Mary Ellen. “She said she wouldn’t put up with the nonsense that was going on.” This was a relief to Dr. O’Grady. If Mrs. Ford had gone home the difficulty, whatever it was, must be capable of adjustment. “Then what on earth do you want? Surely you and Mrs. Gregg haven’t been quarrelling with each other.” “Mrs. Gregg says——” said Mary Ellen. Then she paused, looked at Dr. O’Grady, looked at Doyle, and finally took courage after a glance at Father McCormack. “She says, is there to be white stockings?” “Certainly not,” said Dr. O’Grady. “White stockings would be entirely out of place. If we’re dressing you as an Irish colleen, Mary Ellen, we’ll do it properly. Go and tell Mrs. Gregg that your stockings are to be green, bright green. Did you ever hear such a silly question?” he added turning to the other members of the committee. “Who ever saw an Irish colleen in white stockings?” “While you’re at it, O’Grady,” said the Major, “you’d better settle the colour of her garters.” Mary Ellen, grinning broadly, withdrew her head and shut the door. “What’s that about green stockings for Mary Ellen?” said Father McCormack. “Oh, it’s all right,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The stockings will scarcely show at all. Her dress will be right down to her ankles, longer by far than the ones she usually wears. I needn’t tell you, Father McCormack, that I wouldn’t consent to dressing the girl in any way that wasn’t strictly proper. You mustn’t think——” “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort,” said Father McCormack.