“She’s the only grandniece we can possibly get on such short notice,” said Dr. O’Grady. “I don’t know,” said Sergeant Colgan, “will Mr. Gallagher be too well pleased. Mary Ellen’s a cousin of his own.” “Thady will have to put up with a little inconvenience,” said Dr. O’Grady. “He got us all into this mess, so he can’t complain.” “I beg your pardon, doctor,” said Constable Moriarty, who had stopped grinning and looked truculent, “but I’ll not have it put out that Mary Ellen’s going to marry young Kerrigan. He’s a boy she never looked at, nor wouldn’t.” “Shut up, Moriarty,” said Dr. O’Grady. “If you won’t call her, Doyle, I must do it myself. Mary Ellen, Mary Ellen, come here!” “What’s the use of calling Mary Ellen?” said Doyle. “The girl knows well enough she’s not the niece nor the grandniece of any General. As soon as ever you face her with the American gentleman she’ll be saying something, be the same more or less, that’ll let him know the way things are with her.” “If I know anything of Mary Ellen,” said Dr. O’Grady, “she’ll not say a word more than she need on any subject. I never could drag anything beyond ‘I did,’ or ‘I did not,’ or ‘I might,’ out of her no matter how hard I tried, Mary Ellen! Mary Ellen! Ah! here she is.” Mary Ellen came slowly through the door of the hotel. She smiled when she saw Dr. O’Grady, smiled again and then blushed when her eyes lit on Constable Moriarty. Her face and hands were a little dirtier than they had been earlier in the day, but she had added a small, crumpled, white cap to the apron which she put on in honour of Mr. Billing. The sight of her roused all Constable Moriarty’s spirit. “I’ll not have it done, doctor,” he said, “so there it is for you plain and straight. I’ll not stand by and see the character of a decent girl——” “Whisht, can’t you,” said Mary Ellen. “Sergeant,” said Dr. O’Grady, “this isn’t a matter in which the police have any business to interfere. No one is committing a crime of any sort. You’d far better send Moriarty back to the barrack before he makes a worse fool of himself than he has already.” “Get along home out of that, Moriarty,” said the sergeant. “Do you want me to have to report you to the District Inspector for neglect of duty?” The threat was a terrific one. Moriarty quailed before it. He did not actually go back to the barrack; but he retired to the background and did no more than look reproachfully at Mary Ellen whenever he thought she was looking his way. “It’s a great pity,” said Dr. O’Grady, “that we haven’t time to wash her face. I might do something, even without soap and water, if I had a pocket-handkerchief. Major, just lend me—— Oh hang it! I can’t. Here comes Billing with his camera. Pull yourself together now, Mary Ellen, and try to look as if you were proud of your distinguished relative. It isn’t every girl of your age who has a General for a great uncle.”