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Ed Meyers rose, hastily, his face a shade redder than usual. "Well, I guess I gotta be running along. I'm tickled to death to find you looking so fat and sassy. I got an idea you were just stalling for a rest, that's all. Say, Mrs. McChesney, there's a swell little dame in the house named Riordon. She's on the road, too.
'What does it show? 'Flannigan, three hundherd an' eighty-five; Hansen, forty-eight; Schwartz, twinty; O'Malley, sivinteen; Casey, ten; O'Day, eight; Larsen, five; O'Rourke, three; Mulcahy, two; Schmitt, two; Moloney, two; Riordon, two; O'Malley, two; Willie Boye, wan. 'Gintlemin, says Willie Boye, arisin' with a stern look in his eyes, 'th' rascal has bethrayed me.
If it's your fountain pen you'd better rescue it, because I'm going to hug you again." But Jock McChesney was not smiling. He glanced around the stuffy little hotel room. It looked stuffier and drearier than ever in contrast with his radiant youth, his glowing freshness, his outdoor tan, his immaculate attire. He looked at the astonished Miss Riordon.
It was her regular hour for exercise. Mrs. McChesney watched her go with a sinking heart. "Now!" said Miss Riordon, comfortably, "we girls can have a real, old- fashioned talk. A nurse isn't human. The one I had in Idaho Falls was strictly prophylactic, and antiseptic, and she certainly could give the swell alcohol rubs, but you can't get chummy with a human disinfectant.
And buried her face in her trembling white hands. Miss Riordon stared. Then she slammed the cover of the case, rose, and started toward the door. But before she reached it, and while the sick woman's sobs were still sounding hysterically the door flew open to admit a tall, slim, miraculously well-dressed young man.
It's a wonder I haven't killed myself before now, wrestling with those blamed things." Mrs. McChesney sat up on one elbow as Miss Riordon tugged at the sample-case cover. Then she leaned forward, interested in spite of herself at sight of the pile of sheer, white, exquisitely embroidered and lacy garments that lay disclosed as the cover fell back. "Oh, lingerie! That's an ideal line for a woman.
Let's see the yoke in that first nightgown. It's a really wonderful design." Miss Riordon laughed and shook out the folds of the topmost garment. "Nightgown!" she said, and laughed again. "Take another look." "Why, what " began Emma McChesney. "Shrouds!" announced Miss Riordon complacently. "Shrouds!" shrieked Mrs. McChesney, and her elbow gave way. She fell back on the pillow.
"Beautiful, ain't they?" Miss Riordon twirled the white garment in her hand. "They're the very newest thing. You'll notice they're made up slightly hobble, with a French back, and high waist-line in the front. Last season kimono sleeves was all the go, but they're not used this season. This one " "Take them away!" screamed Emma McChesney hysterically. "Take them away! Take them away!"
He is one of the closest friends and most valued advisers of Charles F. Murphy, leader of Tammany Hall. William L. Riordon A Tribute to Plunkitt by the Leader of Tammany Hall SENATOR PLUNKITT is a straight organization man. He believes in party government; he does not indulge in cant and hypocrisy and he is never afraid to say exactly what he thinks.
Her thoughts were far, far away from samples and sample cases. So he had turned out to be his worthless father's son after all! He must have got some news of her by now. And he ignored it. He was content to amuse himself up there in the Canadian woods, while his mother Miss Riordon, flushed, and panting a little, burst into the room again, sample-case in hand. "Lordy, that's heavy!
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