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Hackley stood rather helplessly in the background and were evidently giving more thought to the fair nurse than to the patient. The mother was alternating between lamentations and invocations of good on the "young leddy's" head. Finding that he would come in for a share of the latter, Scofield retreated again.
"What in the blank-blank d' yer mean by kickin' my blank dog, you blank-blankety-blank, you?" he inquired. "I meant that he was behaving as no dog should," explained Peter, "and the same remark applies to you." He was not without skill at fisticuff, was Hackley. With the speed of a tiger, he let out first his left fist, then his right, at Peter Maginnis's head.
Hackley, unable to resist the novel fascination of liquoring gratis, "just a weeny mite for to cut the dust out o' my windpipe." Ryan went behind the bar and served them himself, selecting with care a bottle which he described as the primest stuff in the house. From this he poured Hackley a remarkably stiff potation, slightly wetting the bottom of his own glass the while.
Hackley secured what public notice he required and divulged the nature of his request. "Fellers, what's the matter with Varney?" Instantly a thousand voices pulverized the man's fatuous anxiety. Hard after, as the gallant slogan swept on to make assurance doubly sure, they gave back the name in a roar like the rush of waters....
She began to speak rapidly and earnestly: "This afternoon I went motoring, I and a friend of mine Mr. John Richards. We took a wrong turn coming back, and of course were horribly late. But at the edge of the square we stopped a minute to inquire about Mrs. Hackley, who was taken quite ill yesterday afternoon. Just as I was getting back into the car, up ran this Mr.
'You boys, says I, 'don't know old Jim like I do! And then o' course, he, he! as the whole day slipped by and nothin' doin' at all why, o' course, I won't deny that they ain't been jollyin' me some." Hackley leaned far over the bar, and shook his fist in the boss's face. "I ain't a man," he shouted, "to be pushed an' a-nagged at in a deal like this.
Hackley had yet won the coveted prize, though they evidently were receiving far greater opportunities to push their suit than he had been favored with. At last his vacation was virtually at an end. But two more days would elapse before he must be at his desk again in the city.
Then his gaze came slowly down and rested in time upon the person of James Hackley, now almost directly opposite. The boss's countenance lit up with a smile of pleased surprise. "Why, hello, Jim!" he called out. "Where you been hidin' yourself lately? Ain't seen you for a week o' Sundays. Come across and pass the time of day!" Mr.
Hackley, with three drinks of the Ottoman's choicest beneath his tattered waistcoat, was not that kind of man at all. He leaned forward against the bar with a belligerence suggesting that he wished to push it over, pinning his pleasant-spoken host to the wall, and pounded the top of it till the glasses tingled.
Why, how'd I look my missus in the face let alone myself and tell her I took money off'n you " He disappeared out of the back door, and Varney, feeling uncomfortable and disproportionately touched, put his spurned bill back in his pocket. Hackley, now perceiving that his guest's visitor was gone, turned his back on the speechmaking and hurried forward solicitously.
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