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"He's brainy, Clarence is. Ideas and enthusiasm, you know. Finds out what he wants and then goes and gets it." Evylyn nodded. She was wondering if the men were still drinking punch back in the dining-room. Mrs. Ahearn's history kept unfolding jerkily, but Evylyn had ceased to listen. The first odor of massed cigars began to drift in.
"Lemme 'lone," he said petulantly; "know what I'm doin'. 'Ats what they came for." Evylyn sat there in a panic, trying to make her mouth form words. She saw her sister's sardonic expression and Mrs. Ahearn's face turning a vivid red. Ahearn was looking down at his watch-chain, fingering it. "I heard who's been keepin' y' out, an' he's not a bit better'n you. I can fix whole damn thing up.
Resignedly and with difficulty Tom removed the cigar that is, he removed part of it, and then blew the remainder with a WHUT sound across the room, where it landed liquidly and limply in Mrs. Ahearn's lap. "Beg pardon," he mumbled, and rose with the vague intention of going after it. Milton's hand on his coat collapsed him in time, and Mrs.
'Ye'll sleep at home, says I. 'Ye'er father sh'd take shame to himsilf, him a rich man. An' I put on me coat, an' wint over to Ahearn's. I was a power in th' wa-ard in thim days, an' feared no man alive. Th' ol' la-ad met us at th' dure. Whin I started to speak, he blazed up. 'Misther Dooley, says he, 'my sorrows are me own. I'll keep thim here.
"Tell you the truth, Evie, I've suspected that Ahearn's wife had something to do with it. Ambitious little lady, I'm told. Guess she knew the Marxes couldn't help her much here." "Is she common?" asked Evie. "Never met her, I'm sure but I don't doubt it. Clarence Ahearn's name's been up at the Country Club five months no action taken." He waved his hand disparagingly.
"They're on'y three books in th' wurruld worth readin', Shakespeare, th' Bible, an' Mike Ahearn's histhry iv Chicago. I have Shakespeare on thrust, Father Kelly r-reads th' Bible f'r me, an' I didn't buy Mike Ahearn's histhry because I seen more thin he cud put into it. Whin I was a young man, th' parish priest used to preach again thim; but nobody knowed what he meant.
In answer Nick would put one hand one broad, brown, steel-strong hand with its broken discoloured nails on Miss Ahearn's arm, in its flimsy georgette sleeve. Miss Ahearn's eyelids would flutter and close, and a little shiver would run with icy-hot feet all over Miss Ahearn. Nick was like that. Nick's real name wasn't Nick at all or scarcely at all.
And his wage at the garage was $40 a week. Miss Ahearn's silk stockings cost $4.50. His unconcern should have infuriated them, but it served to pique. He wasn't actually as unconcerned as he appeared, but he had early learned that effort in their direction was unnecessary. Nick had little imagination; a gorgeous selfishness; a tolerantly contemptuous liking for the sex.
Ahearn's voice drifted in on her: "I really would like the recipe if you have it written down somewhere " Then there was a sound of chairs in the dining-room and the men strolled in. Evylyn saw at once that her worst fears were realized.
Tom sells whisky, and good whisky, and he is able to take care of himself against a half dozen thugs if he runs up against them on Cherry Hill or in Chatharn Square. Pat Ryder and Johnnie Ahearn of the Third and Fourth Districts are just the men for the places. Ahearn's constituents are about half Irishmen and half Jews. He is as popular with one race as with the other.
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