"There's a gentleman here," said Cahoon, "who wants to know whether you mean to fight rather than submit to Home Rule." "Aye," said McConkey, "I do." Then he looked me square in the face without winking. Cahoon did the same thing exactly. Neither of them spoke. It was clearly my turn to say something; but with four hard grey eyes piercing my skin I found it difficult to think of a remark. In the end I said: "Really?" They both continued to stare at me. Then McConkey broke the silence again. "You'll no be a Papist?" he said. "Certainly not," I replied. "In fact I am a church-warden." McConkey thrust his hand deep into a hip pocket in the back of his trousers and drew out a somewhat soiled packet of yellow tracing paper. "Look at thon," he said. I unfolded the tracing paper and found on it drawings of a machine gun. Cahoon peered over my shoulder. "She's a bonny wee thing," said McConkey. She looked to me large and murderous. Cahoon expressed his admiration for her, so I said nothing. "I'll no be that badly off for something to fight with," said McConkey, "when the time comes." "Do you mean to say," I said, "that you've bought that weapon?" "I haven't her bought yet," said McConkey; "but I have the money by me." "And you actually mean--" I said. "Ay. I do." I looked at Cahoon. He was still studying the drawings of the gun. "It'll be queer," said McConkey, slowly, "if she doesna' land a few of them in hell before they have me catched." I turned to Cahoon again. "Do you really think," I said, "that he--?" "We're business men," said Cahoon, "and we don't throw away our money." "But," I said, "who are you going to shoot at? It would be silly to attack a tax collector with a gun like that. I don't see who--" "Oh," said Cahoon, "don't fret about that. We'll find somebody to shoot at." "There'll be plenty," said McConkey, "when the time comes." "The real difficulty," said Cahoon, "is that--" "They'll no be wanting to stand up till us," said McConkey. The relations of Capital with Labour are, I understand, strained in other parts of the United Kingdom. Here, with Home Rule on the horizon, they seem to be actually cordial. There is certainly a good deal to be said for Lady Moyne's policy. So long as Cahoon and McConkey have a common taste for making domestic pets of machine guns they are not likely to fall out over such minor matters as wages and hours of work.