General John Regan Part 47

"Ladies and gentlemen??" he said.

This third beginning secured him a large audience. Nearly half the people in the square were listening to him. He felt justified in going on with his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we are now going to proceed with the unveiling of the statue of General John Regan. Mary Ellen, whom most of you know??"

He paused and the crowd cheered. A crowd nearly always cheers anyone who is mentioned by name in a speech, unless it is quite plain that the speaker means to be abusive.

"Mary Ellen," said Dr. O'Grady, "who is the nearest living relative of the great General, will perform the ceremony. Now, Mary Ellen," he went on, in a lower tone, "pull the string. Father McCormack, give her the string. She doesn't seem able to find it."

Father McCormack handed the end of the string to Mary Ellen. She chucked at it in a timid, doubtful way. Nothing happened.

"Pull harder," said Dr. O'Grady.

Sergeant Colgan, who was a benevolent man, and therefore anxious that the ceremony should be a success, stepped to Mary Ellen's side and laid his hand on hers. He pulled hard. The sheet fluttered to the ground. The crowd cheered delightedly.

"There now," said Dr. O'Grady to Lord Alfred Blakeney, "I told you there really was a statue under that sheet. Next time I say something to you I hope you'll believe it."

He held up his hand, and young Kerrigan, who was watching for the signal, began to play at once. The tune he chose was an attractive one which had achieved some popularity in a Dublin pantomime the year before. Mrs. Gregg glanced dubiously at Dr. O'Grady, and then walked towards the statue with the bouquet in her hand. When she had gone five or six yards she stopped and looked round to see what had happened to Major Kent. He was hanging back, but the piteous appeal in her eyes moved him. He scowled ferociously at the doctor, and then with clenched teeth and closely pressed lips joined Mrs. Gregg. Everybody cheered.

The Major, in spite of being a landlord, was very popular in the neighbourhood. The cheers made him still more uncomfortable. He frowned with embarra.s.sment and anger. Mrs. Gregg laid her hand on his arm. Still frowning, he led her forward, very much as if he were taking her in to dinner. Mrs. Gregg was frightened and nervous. She had only the vaguest idea of what she was expected to do. When she reached the base of the statue she curtseyed deeply. The people cheered frantically. Major Kent dropped her arm and hurried away. He was a gentleman of an old-fashioned kind, and, partly perhaps because he had never married, was very chivalrous towards women. But Mrs. Gregg's curtsey and the cheers which followed it were too much for him. His position had become intolerable.

Mrs. Gregg, suddenly deserted by her escort, dropped the bouquet and fled. Sergeant Colgan picked it up and laid it solemnly at the foot of the statue. Young Kerrigan, stimulated by the cheers, worked the band up to a fortissimo performance of his tune.

Dr. O'Grady held his hat in his hand. He signalled frantically to Father McCormack. He took off his hat, whispering to Major Kent as he did so.

The Major, who was utterly bewildered, and not at all sure what was happening, took off his hat. Several other bystanders, supposing that it must be right to stand bare-headed before a newly unveiled statue, took off theirs: Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him doubtfully. Most of the people near him had their hats in their hands. He took off his.

The unusually loud noise made by the band reached Thady Gallagher in the bar of the hotel. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a speech which he was making to Mr. Billing. After a moment's hesitation he rushed to the door of the hotel. The sight of the people, standing bare-headed and silent while the band played, convinced him that Dr. O'Grady was in the act of perpetrating a treacherous trick upon the sincerely patriotic but unsuspecting inhabitants of Ballymoy. Standing at the door of the hotel he shouted and waved his arms. Mr. Billing stood behind him looking on with an expression of serious interest. n.o.body could hear what Gallagher said. But Father McCormack and Doyle, fearing that he would succeed in making himself audible, hurried towards him. Doyle seized him by the arm, Gallagher shook him off angrily.

"It shall never be said," he shouted, "that I stood silent while an insult was heaped upon Ballymoy and the cause of Nationalism in Ireland."

"Whisht, now whisht," said Father McCormack. "Sure there's nothing to be angry about."

"There is what would make any man angry, any man that has the welfare of Ireland at heart. That tune??"

"It isn't that tune at all," said Father McCormack. "It's another one altogether."

"It's not another," said Gallagher, "but it's the one I mean. Didn't Constable Moriarty say it was?"

"Oughtn't you to listen to his reverence," said Doyle, "more than to Moriarty? But if you won't do that, can't you hear the tune for yourself?"

"I can hear it; and what's more I can see the Major with his hat off and the young fellow that's down from Dublin Castle with his hat off, and the doctor??"

"It's my belief, Thady," said Doyle, "that you're three parts drunk. It would be better for you to go back into the hotel."

He caught Gallagher by the arm as he spoke and held him fast Young Kerrigan reached the end of his tune with a triumphant flourish. Dr.

O'Grady put on his hat again. One by one the various bystanders followed his example. Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him, puzzled.

"Surely that wasn't the National Anthem?" he said.

"I thought," said Dr. O'Grady, "that you didn't know one tune from another."

"I don't; but, hang it all, a man can't be aide-decamp to His Excellency without getting to know the sound of the National Anthem. What tune was it and why did we all take off our hats?"

"You tell the Lord-Lieutenant when you get back," said Dr. O'Grady, "that we all, including Major Kent, who's a strong Unionist, stood bare-headed while the band played. He'll be able to guess what tune it was, and he'll be pleased."

"But it wasn't the??"

"A speech will now be made," said Dr. O'Grady, addressing the crowd, "by Lord Alfred Blakeney as representative of the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland."

"But I'm not," said Lord Alfred clutching at Dr. O'Grady. "His Excellency will be furious if he hears??"

"Go on," said Dr. O'Grady pushing him towards the statue. "Stand on the pedestal."

"But I can't make a speech. I'm not prepared. I've nothing to say."

He was pushed forward remorselessly. At the very base of the statue he turned.

"I hope there are no reporters present," he said in a tone of despair.

"There probably are lots," said Dr. O'Grady. "Get up now and begin. The people won't stand here all day."

Lord Alfred Blakeney, still clasping the illuminated address in his arms, was hustled on to the lowest step of the pedestal. The people cheered encouragingly.

"Oh d.a.m.n this great picture," said Lord Alfred. "Do hold it for me."

"Never mind it," said Dr. O'Grady. "It's all right as it is. Make your speech."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Lord Alfred, "I find myself standing here to-day??"

"As representative of the Lord-Lieutenant," said Dr. O'Grady, prompting him.

"But I'm not. I tell you he'll be angry. I can't make this speech. I really can't."

"You can if you like," said Dr. O'Grady. "Go on."

"I stand here to-day," said Lord Alfred, "at the unveiling of this beautiful statue??"

"Hear, hear," said Doyle from the door of the hotel. "It's a grand statue surely."

"Go on," said Dr. O'Grady. "You're doing capitally. Say something about the grant from the Government for a new pier."

"About what?" said Lord Alfred.

"About a grant for a new pier," said Dr. O'Grady, speaking distinctly.

"But I've no authority. I can't."

"500 will satisfy us," said Dr. O'Grady. "It's a mere trifle. After the shabby way the Lord-Lieutenant has behaved to us?but go on, anyway."

"I have much pleasure," said Lord Alfred Blakeney, "in declaring this statue?er?open?er?for public inspection."