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"Now then, Martin," whispered Barney O'Flannagan, who sat at the bow oar, "I'm goin' to swim ashore; jist you slip arter me as quiet as ye can." "But the sharks!" suggested Martin. "Bad luck to them," said Barney as he slipped over the side, "they're welcome to me. Til take my chance. They'll find me mortial tough, anyhow. Come along, lad, look sharp!"
Barney looked round as he spoke, with a bland, self-satisfied expression of countenance, as if he felt that he had given a lucid definition of the very highest style of philosophy, and proved that he, Barney O'Flannagan, was possessed of the same in no common degree. "Well, Barney," rejoined Martin, "since you give me credit for being a philosopher, I must continue to talk philosophically.
"Begad, but her works want oiling badly!" O'Flannagan confided to Quita, as the last shimmering morsel of her train slid out of sight. "She's one o' your immaculate Englishwomen who give me the blues. Come on, Mrs Lenox. Thank Heaven for the dash of ould Ireland in you; and let's begin to enjoy ourselves!" From that moment the evening took a new lease of life.
Further on, we encountered Mrs O'Flannagan, an Irish lady, who kept the fruit stall at the corner by the cross roads. She was dressed, as neatly as a new pin, in an "illigant" Connemara cloak, which seemed to be donned for the first time, besides a bran new bonnet; and, thanks to "elbow grease," her peachy, soap-scrubbed cheeks shone again.
Martin Rattler and Barney O'Flannagan soon after this began to entertain a desire to travel further into the interior of Brazil, and behold with their own eyes the wonders of which they had heard so much from their kind and hospitable friend, the hermit.
Martin did not require to turn his head to the other side to see if Barney O'Flannagan was there, for that worthy individual made his presence known, for a distance of at least sixty yards all round the outside of the hut, by means of his nose, which he was in the habit of using as a trumpet when asleep.
Clay, but who always helped in such campaigns for contributions, was assigned to the residence section of Limerick, while Mrs. Clay's most intimate friend, Mrs. Castleman Smith, was assigned to Third and Fourth avenues between Kentucky and Hill streets. One hot afternoon, while Mrs. O'Flannagan was hanging out the wash, the car of Mrs. Robinson drove up to her door.
O'Flannagan, Mrs. Rothchilds says you are a beautiful laundress and that you always return all the things when you promise. I had a nigger doing my work and she was an awful nuisance. I do believe she wore my stockings and my teddy-bears. Mrs. Rothchilds is a friend of mine; we live in adjoining apartments. There are four in her family and only three in mine and her son Leo has so many shirts.
Martin Rattler and Barney O'Flannagan soon after this began to entertain a desire to travel further into the interior of Brazil, and behold with their own eyes the wonders of which they had heard so much from their kind and hospitable friend the hermit.
Barney looked round as he spoke, with a bland, self-satisfied expression of countenance, as if he felt that he had given a lucid definition of the very highest style of philosophy, and proved that he, Barney O'Flannagan, was possessed of the same in no common degree. "Well, Barney," rejoined Martin, "since you give me credit for being a philosopher, I must continue to talk philosophically.
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