One of his least favorite chores was to make his way up to the highest point of his parish, to the small farm where lived that most formidable parishioner, Mrs. O’Flynn, She was a woman whose eye he avoided even when he preached at her on Sunday. A former schoolmistress, she still spoke with the patience and precision of one addressing meaner intelligences than her own. At sight of him entering the farmyard, she would put down the bucket of mash and draw near, hitching her jersey higher on her impressive chest. Then, leaning upon the haggard wall, she would proceed to inform him, in carefully articulated English, of the shortcomings of his parish and of all in it, including himself.

While he listened, unable to get a word in edgeways, he watched her husband dourly hump great, steaming sprongfuls across the yard. And, all the time, he was aware of her pet ram that stood on the step outside the front door and stared down at him disdainfully. A ménage à trois, he had called it, and that flash of vengeful inspiration had been some consolation for all the trouble they caused him.

For, not only her manner, but also the candor with which she was afflicted occasioned neighborly assaults against her husband or herself. These led eventually to scenes in court, which were reported in shameful detail in the local papers.

A dispute recently about a boundary ditch had culminated in an attempt by a neighboring farmer and his two sons to impale Mr. O’Flynn on the points of their hay forks. Mr. O’Flynn, however, could still show a surprising turn of speed, thanks to his long experience of such situations. Charges and countercharges had been laid, and now another court case was pending, in spite of the attempts of the Sergeant to talk both sides out of it.

He was a big, silent man, the Sergeant, who patrolled his district in slow motion on a big bicycle. Shyness made him sweat easily, which was why he never prosecuted anyone (and consequently, it was said, had never been promoted). Now the thought of giving evidence in court in a case involving the O’Flynns threatened him with total dissolution. When he appeared at Father Conroy’s front door, he took off his cap and wiped all over his head as he implored Father Conroy, for God’s sake, to come up with him to the O’Flynns and see what could be done to effect a settlement between the parties.

“Go up yourself, so,” said Father Conroy.

“Sure, it’s not my place to do the like of that.”

“It’s not my place, either.”

The Sergeant continued to wipe his head obstinately. He knew that anything he might say to Mrs. O’Flynn would be flung back at him in court. It was different for Father Conroy.