“I often told you that?”

Mrs. Kernan nodded.

“It was at the unveiling of Sir John Gray’s statue.  Edmund Dwyer Gray was speaking, blathering away, and here was this old fellow, crabbed-looking old chap, looking at him from under his bushy eyebrows.”

Mr. Kernan knitted his brows and, lowering his head like an angry bull, glared at his wife.

“God!” he exclaimed, resuming his natural face, “I never saw such an eye in a man’s head.  It was as much as to say:  I have you properly taped, my lad.  He had an eye like a hawk.”

“None of the Grays was any good,” said Mr. Power.

There was a pause again.  Mr. Power turned to Mrs. Kernan and said with abrupt joviality: 

“Well, Mrs. Kernan, we’re going to make your man here a good holy pious and God-fearing Roman Catholic.”

He swept his arm round the company inclusively.

“We’re all going to make a retreat together and confess our sins—­ and God knows we want it badly.”

“I don’t mind,” said Mr. Kernan, smiling a little nervously.

Mrs. Kernan thought it would be wiser to conceal her satisfaction.  So she said: 

“I pity the poor priest that has to listen to your tale.”

Mr. Kernan’s expression changed.

“If he doesn’t like it,” he said bluntly, “he can... do the other thing.  I’ll just tell him my little tale of woe.  I’m not such a bad fellow——­”

Mr. Cunningham intervened promptly.

“We’ll all renounce the devil,” he said, “together, not forgetting his works and pomps.”

“Get behind me, Satan!” said Mr. Fogarty, laughing and looking at the others.

Mr. Power said nothing.  He felt completely out-generalled.  But a pleased expression flickered across his face.

“All we have to do,” said Mr. Cunningham, “is to stand up with lighted candles in our hands and renew our baptismal vows.”

“O, don’t forget the candle, Tom,” said Mr. M’Coy, “whatever you do.”

“What?” said Mr. Kernan.  “Must I have a candle?”

“O yes,” said Mr. Cunningham.

“No, damn it all,” said Mr. Kernan sensibly, “I draw the line there.  I’ll do the job right enough.  I’ll do the retreat business and confession, and... all that business.  But... no candles!  No, damn it all, I bar the candles!”

He shook his head with farcical gravity.

“Listen to that!” said his wife.

“I bar the candles,” said Mr. Kernan, conscious of having created an effect on his audience and continuing to shake his head to and fro.  “I bar the magic-lantern business.”

Everyone laughed heartily.

“There’s a nice Catholic for you!” said his wife.

“No candles!” repeated Mr. Kernan obdurately.  “That’s off!”