A Great Day for the Irish

								

"Patch," she demanded, "what's that?"
"You've the eagle eye, to be sure. What do you suppose it is?"
"It's clover," she said. "Shamrock to you. Surely not the same
shamrock! I gave strict orders!"
Before he could stop her, she had tugged a plant up by the roots and
pulled out her pocket microscope as she bent over it.
"Sure, they were so busy worrying about the plague here, they forgot
all about the little plague from Earth. And all I wanted was a bit
of old Ireland to bring with me. A few little cysts couldn't be that
important. And you've got to admit that's what I've got--a green
island!"
"The idiots!" screamed Bridget. "The irresponsible, shirking,
doublefaced--"
Her hand went up and Patch dodged involuntarily, expecting her to throw
shamrock, dirt and all right at his head. But her hand stopped in
midair.
"Patch!" Her voice fell to a whisper of incredulity. "I think I've got
the answer here in my hand. Don't say a word till I'm sure, but get
me soil samples from all over your place--there--and over there--and
hurry!"
Patch ran back and forth with the soil samples and Bridget looked in
her microscope, and everywhere the golden nematode was teeming and
nowhere was there a sign of the sinister yellow streaks.
"Don't you see?" Bridget said. "Whatever it is, the nematodes are
killing it."
"It will take some experimenting to prove it, but Bridget, my girl, I
believe you're right."
"And while they're proving it, Patch, you and I are going to breed
nematodes right here."
And she had a vision of the golden horde, burrowing from Patch's
land in all directions, bringing back health and sanity to the land.
Whatever would Professor Schwarzkopf say? Dear Professor Schwarzkopf!
Sometimes the watchdogs are too faithful. They keep out everyone--even
our friends.
And that was how New Eden was saved. And the nematodes prospered and
the Maguires prospered and the shamrocks grew everywhere. And so there
was nothing for it but to call the planet New Ireland.