“Oh, he’ll not die. That sort of man never does die, not till he’s about ninety, anyhow. But it won’t do to let him fancy this place doesn’t agree with him. What you’ve got to do is to see that he gets a proper supply of good, wholesome food, eggs and milk, and all the rest of it.” “If there’s an egg in the town he’ll get it,” said Flanagan, “and I’ll speak to Johnny Conerney about the meat that’s supplied to him. You may trust me, doctor, if that young fellow dies in Dunailin it’ll not be for want of food.” “Thanks,” said Dr. Farelly; “and keep him cheerful, Flanagan, don’t let him mope. That brings me to the third point. You heard what he wrote about the Irish Renaissance and the Celtic spirit?” “I heard it right enough,” said Flanagan, “but I’m not sure do I know the meaning of it.” “The meaning of it,” said Dr. Farelly, “is fairies, just plain, ordinary fairies. That’s what he wants, and I don’t expect he’ll settle down contentedly unless he finds a few.” “Sure you know well enough, doctor, that there’s no fairies in these parts. I don’t say there mightn’t have been some in times past, but any there was is now gone.” “I know that,” said Dr. Farelly, “and I’m not asking you to go beating thorn bushes in the hopes of catching one. But if this fellow, Theophilus Lovaway--did ever you hear such a name?--if he wants fairies he must hear about them. You’ll have to get hold of a few people who go in for that sort of thing. Now what about Patsy Doolan’s mother? She’s old enough, and she looks like a witch herself.” “If the like of the talk of Patsy Doolan’s mother would be giving him is any use I’ll see he’s satisfied. That old woman would talk the hind leg off a donkey about fairies or anything else if you were to give her a pint of porter, and I’ll do that. I’ll give it to her regular, so I will. I’d do more than that for you, doctor, for you’re a man I like, let alone that you’re going out to foreign parts to put the fear of God into them Germans, which is no more than they deserve.” Dr. Farelly felt satisfied that Mr. Flanagan would do his best for Lovaway. And Mr. Flanagan was an important person. As the principal publican in the town, the chairman of all the councils, boards, and leagues there were, he had an enormous amount of influence. But Dr. Farelly was still a little uneasy. He went over to the police barrack and explained the situation to Sergeant Rahilly. The sergeant readily promised to do all he could to make Dunailin pleasant for the new doctor, and to keep him from getting into mischief or trouble. Only in the matter of Lovaway’s taste for Irish folk-lore and poetry the sergeant refused to promise any help. He was quite firm about this. “It wouldn’t do for the police to be mixed up in that kind of work,” he said. “Politics are what a sergeant of police is bound to keep out of.” “But hang it all,” said Dr. Farelly, “fairies aren’t politics.”