Dr. O’Grady whistled it through again. “It’s a good tune,” he said. “It would be a nice one for the band to learn.” “It would not.” “What’s the matter with you?” said Dr. O’Grady. “To look at the expression of your face anybody’d think that the sheep in the back yard had been skinning you.” “You know well what’s the matter with me.” “If you’re nursing a grievance,” said Dr. O’Grady, “because Thady Gallagher told the American gentleman that you were married to Mary Ellen and had twins, you ought to have more sense.” It is always very difficult to remain in a bad temper with anyone who insists on being pleasant and cheerful. Young Kerrigan began to give way. He grinned unwillingly. “That’s the first I heard of twins,” he said. “And he only said it to please the American gentleman,” said Dr. O’Grady. “Nobody believed him.” “Sure I know well enough,” said young Kerrigan, “that there has to be lies told to the likes of that one. How else would you content them? I wouldn’t mind myself what was said, knowing it was meant for the best, only that Constable Moriarty——” “Moriarty doesn’t mind a bit,” said Dr. O’Grady; “so if it’s only his feelings you’re thinking of, you may just as well listen to this tune.” He whistled “Rule Britannia” through once more. He threw great spirit into the last few bars. “It’s a good tune enough,” said young Kerrigan. “Could the band learn it?” “It could, of course, if so be that I had the tune right on the cornet. It would be a queer thing if I couldn’t incense the rest of them into doing what had to be done with the other instruments.” “I can’t play the cornet myself,” said Dr. O’Grady, “but I’ll whistle the tune to you as often as you like, or if you prefer it we might get the loan of a piano somewhere, and I’ll play it for you. I can’t borrow the Major’s again for reasons which I’m not in a position to explain to you, but we can easily get the use of another if you think it would help you.” “The whistling will do,” said young Kerrigan. “Will you come inside with me now and I’ll try can I get it. But, doctor——” He hesitated and looked doubtfully at Dr. O’Grady. It was plain that he had a favour to ask and was a little afraid of asking it. “Well,” said Dr. O’Grady encouragingly. “If so be that you were to see Moriarty——” said young Kerrigan. Then he hesitated again. “I see far too much of him,” said Dr. O’Grady. “I’d be obliged to you if you’d tell him that I never looked next nor nigh Mary Ellen, nor wouldn’t. Even if I wanted the girl I wouldn’t go behind Moriarty’s back to get her; and I don’t want her.” “I’ll make that perfectly plain to him. Come along now and learn the tune.” CHAPTER XII