he black creatures here do anything of that sort? They do not! They go
about their business plain and open, givin' a half of the road and a
how'd'y-do to those they meet. They're sober and they're industrious.
They mind their own business, which is killin' the Eirean porcupines we
inaccurate call by the name of dinies. It's their profession! Did yea
ever hear of a snake with a profession? I'll not have it said that
there's snakes on Eire! And I'll denounce yea as a conscienceless
politician if yea dare to put such a name on the honest, friendly,
industrious Eirean porcupine eaters that up to this moment have been
the savin' of the colony! I'll not have it!"

There was a long silence. Then Sean O'Donohue spoke dryly: "Porcupine
eaters, you say? Not snakes?"

"Not snakes!" repeated the president defiantly. "Porcupine eaters!"

"Hm-m-m," said Sean O'Donohue. "That's better. The Dail's not immune to
blarney when it's needful to accept it--and Eire back on Earth is hard
put for breathin' room you say can be had from now on. What would be
the reason for Moira standin' so close to you?"

"She's marryin' me," said President O'Hanrahan firmly.

Sean O'Donohue's voice was waspish.

"But I forbid it!" it said sharply. "Until I'm up and about and able to
be givin' her in marriage as her grandfather ought to be doin'! Ye'll
wait the few days till I'm able! Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the president. Meekness seemed called for.

"Then begone!" snapped Sean O'Donohue. Then he added sternly:
"Remember--no shenanigans!"

The solicitor general watched them depart on a wedding journey to a
cottage in Ballyhanninch, which was on Donegal Peninsular, fronting on
the Emmett Sea. He waved, like the assembled populace. But when they
were out of sight he said darkly to the chief justice and the
Chancellor of the Exchequer:

"I didn't have the heart to bring it up before, but there's the devil
of a problem buildin' up against the time he comes back."

"Which problem?" asked the Chancellor of the Exchequer, warily.

"It's the sn ... the porcupine killers," said the solicitor general.
"Things look bad for them. They're out of work. Even Timothy. There's
no dinies to speak of for them to earn a livin' by killin'. It's
technological unemployment. They earned their way faithful, doin' work
they knew an' loved. Now they're jobless. There's no work for them.
What's to be done? Put 'em on re [remainder of text is missing]

There was a pa