“I remember all about that business,” said Hinde. “I was there myself. But we never saw your instruments. All we took away with us was two old footballs and a set of rotten goal-posts. Whatever happened to your instruments, we didn’t take them. I expect,” said Hinde, “that the Manchester Martyr boys pawned them.” O’Farrelly sat silent. It was unfortunately quite possible that the members of the football club had pawned the instruments, intending, of course, to redeem them when the club funds permitted. “I’m sorry for you,” said Hinde. “It’s awkward for you losing your drums and things just now, with this demonstration of yours advertised all over the place. You’ll hardly be able to hold the demonstration, will you?” “The demonstration will be held,” said O’Farrelly firmly. “Not without a band, surely. Hang it all, O’Farrelly, a demonstration is no kind of use without a band. It wouldn’t be a demonstration. You know that as well as I do.” O’Farrelly was painfully aware that a demonstration without a band is a poor business. He rose sadly and said good night. Hinde felt sorry for him. “If the police had any instruments,” he said, “I’d lend them to you. But we haven’t a band of our own here. There aren’t enough of us.” This assurance, though it was of no actual use, cheered O’Farrelly. It occurred to him that though the police had no band instruments to lend it might be possible to borrow elsewhere. The Loyal True-Blue Invincibles, for instance, had a very fine band, well supplied in every way, particularly with big drums. O’Farrelly thought the situation over and then called on Jimmy McLoughlin, the blacksmith, who was the secretary of the Orange Lodge. “Jimmy,” said O’Farrelly, “we’re in trouble about the demonstration that’s to be held next Tuesday.” “It’d be better for you,” said Jimmy, “if that demonstration was never held. For let me tell you this: the Lodge boys has their minds made up to have no Papist rebels demonstrating here.” “It isn’t you, nor your Orange Lodge nor all the damned Protestants in Ireland would be fit to stop us,” said O’Farrelly. Jimmy McLoughlin spit on his hands as if in preparation for the fray. Then he wiped them on his apron, remembering that the time for fighting had not yet come. “And what’s the matter with your demonstration?” he asked. “It’s the want of instruments for the band that has us held up,” said O’Farrelly. “We lent them, so we did, and the fellows that had them didn’t return them.” Jimmy McLoughlin pondered the situation. He was as well aware as Mr. Hinde, as O’Farrelly himself, that a demonstration without a band is a vain thing. “It would be a pity now,” he said slowly, “if anything was to interfere with that demonstration, seeing as how you’re ready for it and we’re ready for you.”