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Beirne, who had long claimed the eve of the New Year for the hospitable repayment of his social dues, had lived to see the list of his friends shrink fast as Old Years ticked out. Nevertheless, the scene now was indubitably inspiriting. Lively groups decorated all the purview. White shirt-fronts gleamed: white shoulders did the same.
"Oh! good-morning, Miss Heth!" said he, in a manner indicating the experiment of pleased surprise, tempered with a certain embarrassment.... "What a glorious day outdoors, isn't it? almost spring.... Won't you come in?" No, I stopped to ask how Mr. Beirne is to-day. We hope there is better news?" The young man stepped at once out into the vestibule. "Oh!
On the opposite, or left-hand, page of the ledger there stood: Income 50. Receipts 6.40 Total 56.40 Vivian's dead father, though the absent-minded inventor of the turbine that would never quite work, had somehow contrived not to make away with every penny of his wife's Beirne inheritance. Very few unsuccessful inventors could say as much.
Fitzpatrick, Miss Beirne, two of the stewards, the baritone, the bass, and Mr. O'Madden Burke. Mr. O'Madden Burke said it was the most scandalous exhibition he had ever witnessed. Miss Kathleen Kearney's musical career was ended in Dublin after that, he said. The baritone was asked what did he think of Mrs. Kearney's conduct. He did not like to say anything.
Beirne will leave his money to the Masons. Now for some beauty slumber I'm quite ready for it, too! Sleep well, Mats dear." They kissed, and parted for sweet dreams. At the door, Cally, pausing, said: "Oh, Mats, go with me to Madame Smythe's to-morrow? I'm buying things for New York." But Mats could not reply, being already at her devotions....
They opened the back door to let the Old Year out. They flung wide the front doors to let the New Year in. They lowered all lights to the dimness of obsequies. The gay company, standing, ranged the long room in a ghostly half-light, and old Mr. Beirne, from his immemorial post between the tall windows, read from a great book "The Dying Year," in a voice as slow and solemn as he could make it.
"Well, I'm going to be just like myself after this, never fear.... Gentlemen always welcome. We strive to please." She put an arm over her friend's shoulder, and in this true-friendship attitude they strolled through the little entry and connecting bath to the spare-room at the back where Mattie always spent the night. "I feel terribly sorry for poor Mr. Beirne," said Mattie, in a just voice.
Had these been pay patients, carriage trade, Receipts would have soared dizzily in these days, and handsome additions might have been made to that Beirne residue of fifteen thousand dollars, now lying useless, not even at three per centum, in Mr. Heth's Fourth National Bank.
Standing under his eye in the tiled vestibule, Carlisle produced, from her swinging gold case, not her card, but those of Mr. and Mrs. B. Thornton Heth, and extended them in a gloved hand. "May I leave these?" she said, with the reemergence of "manner." "My mother and father will be delighted to learn that Mr. Beirne is soon to be well again." "That's very kind.
There was felt a quick, childlike impulse for hands all round and such a singing of "Auld Lang Syne" as would have brought the police on the run. By long practice and the most accurate chronometric reckoning, old Mr. Beirne timed his proceedings to a decimal. The last line of the slow-read poem died in a deafening uproar without. At Mr.
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