‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able to get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or to argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland Protestant.’ Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was coming next. ‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ ‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week if I can.’ ‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, and go to Mass.’ ‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ ‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it if I were you. Good-night.’ ‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. ‘Been round your customers here lately?’ ‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to go round them to-morrow.’ ‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll do.’ Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was more likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he refrained from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. Hollywell went on: ‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of a Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you at Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. The proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an appearance at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ ‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had no religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, and I don’t mean to go against them.’ ‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better Protestants than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, and everyone knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant there is.’ This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. ‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind is possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their own interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’