"
"She is not," said Doyle; "not that I heard of any way, though she
might take the notion later."
"Then what do you want the cushions for?"
"It's an English gentleman," said Doyle; "a high-up man by all
accounts, that has the fishing took from Simpkins. He'll be stopping
in the hotel, and he'll want the car to take him up the river in the
morning. The kind of man he is, I wouldn't like to be putting him off
with my old cushions. They're terrible bad, the way the rats has them
ate on me."
"If he really is a man of eminence in any walk of life," said
Meldon--"a bishop, for instance, or a member of the House of Lords, or
a captain of industry, you can have the cushions. If he's simply a
second-rate man of the ordinary tourist type, you can't."
"He's a judge," said Doyle, "and what's more, an English judge."
"I'm surprised to hear you saying a thing like that. As a Nationalist
you ought to be the last to admit that an English judge is in any way
superior to an Irish one. He may be better paid--I daresay he is
better paid, for we never get our fair share of what's going--but in
the things that really matter--in legal acumen, for instance, which is
the great thing we look for in judges--I don't expect the Irishman is a
bit behind.
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