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Guess who gave it to me." He shook his head. "My husband!" Maggie Monahan, he didn't even blink. Perhaps in the Bishop's set husbands are not uncommon, or very likely they don't know what a husband like Fred Obermuller means. "I congratulate you, my child, or or did it were you " "Why, I'd never seen Fred Obermuller then," I cried. "Can't you tell a difference, Bishop?" I pleaded.
Morris, Q.C., and aided by Mr. John Curran and Mr. Purcell. The Court of Common Pleas was the stage; Chief Justice Monahan presiding with a special jury. The trial was expected to last a week, and not only the Court but the approaches to it were crowded.
But I didn't for there, asleep on a rug that some one had forgotten to take in, was the house cat. I gave her a quick slap, and she flew out and across the path like a flash. The cop watched her, his hand on the gate, and passed on. Mag Monahan, if Tom had come out that minute without a bean and gone home with me, I'd been so relieved I'd never have tried again. But he didn't come.
Hereafter Slosson would do only the actual buying. Styles, prices, and materials would be decided by her. Ella Monahan accompanied her, it being the time for her monthly trip. Fanny openly envied her her knowledge of New York's wholesale district. Ella offered to help her. "No," Fanny had replied, "I think not, thanks. You've your own work.
And I stood there like a demure little kitten; or more like Mag Monahan after she'd had a good licking, and was good and quiet. And I never so much as budged till Obermuller said: "Well, Nance, you have earned it. The gall of you! But it only proves that Fred Obermuller never yet bought a gold brick. Only, let me in on your racket next time. There, go on take it. It's yours."
Oh, yes, I knew it all right; I had called up that same number once, already, to-day. Brophy's? Why, Maggie Monahan, you ought to know there's no Brophy's. At least none that I ever heard about. With my hand over the mouthpiece, so that nobody heard but Edward, I ordered a supper fit for a king or a chorus girl! What didn't I order!
He has ever since his childhood evinced a most extraordinary fancy for game cocks an attachment not at all surprising, when it is known that not only was his father, Morgan Monahan, the most celebrated breeder and handler of that courageous bird but his mother, Poll Doolin married women here frequently preserve, or are called by, their maiden names through life who learned it from her husband, was equally famous for this very feminine accomplishment.
She would stop Carl in the dark "railroad" hallway and, chewing gum rapidly, chatter about the aisleman at Wanamacy's, and what a swell time there would be at the coming ball of the Thomas J. Monahan Literary and Social Club, tickets twenty-five cents for lady and gent, including hat-check.
"There's a girl named Nancy Olden that could tell you a lot, smart as you are. She could show you the inside of the Cruelty, where she was put so young she never knew that children had mothers and fathers, till a red-haired girl named Mag Monahan told her; and then she was mighty glad she hadn't any.
And you're the kind of woman who looks her best in those plain dark things." "Well, then?" "You look like a buyer. In two more years your face will have that hard finish that never comes off." "I am a buyer." "You're not. You're a creator. Remember, I'm not belittling your job. It's a wonderful job for Ella Monahan. I wish I had the gift of eloquence. I wish I had the right to spank you.
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