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Updated: June 28, 2025
A small ragged girl dragged a red, bawling infant along the crowded ways. He was hanging back, baby-like, bracing his wrinkled, bare legs. The little girl cried out: "Ah, Tommie, come ahn. Dere's Jimmie and fader. Don't be a-pullin' me back." She jerked the baby's arm impatiently. He fell on his face, roaring. With a second jerk she pulled him to his feet, and they went on.
Riley turned with sudden fervor. "Good cayre! Mr. Ristofalo," she exclaimed, lifting her free hand and touching her bosom with the points of her fingers, "ye don't know the hairt of a woman, surr! No-o-o, surr! It's love we wants! 'The hairt as has trooly loved nivver furgits, but as trooly loves ahn to the tlose!" "Yes," said the Italian; "yes," nodding and ever smiling, "dass aw righ'."
If it no longer retains its ubiquity, it is because something even less adaptable to the object in view has been since invented. Lest, in spite of all, the British schoolboy should obtain, even from the like of "Ahn," some glimmering of French, the British educational method further handicaps him by bestowing upon him the assistance of, what is termed in the prospectus, "A native gentleman."
What if we make inquiries at the pier? It it may be all a mistake. They stopped for this purpose at Amblemere. 'Ay, Miss Millikin, mum, he cooms ahn boord reglar, does that wee dug, said the old boatman, 'and a' makes himsel' rare an' frien'ly, a' do they coddle him oop fine, amang 'em.
Finally he lurched forward and fell groaning to the floor. The women screamed in disgust and drew back their skirts. "Come ahn," cried one, starting up angrily, "let's get out of here." The woman of brilliance and audacity stayed behind, taking up the bills and stuffing them into a deep, irregularly-shaped pocket. A guttural snore from the recumbent man caused her to turn and look down at him.
Finally he lurched forward and fell groaning to the floor. The women screamed in disgust and drew back their skirts. "Come ahn," cried one, starting up angrily, "let's get out of here." The woman of brilliance and audacity stayed behind, taking up the bills and stuffing them into a deep, irregularly-shaped pocket. A guttural snore from the recumbent man caused her to turn and look down at him.
Then, perhaps, he would slacken just a bit on the traces, and Tim would give that queer, shrill chirrup of his, adding, sympathetically: "Come, me bye, come ahn!" Then Chieftain would tighten the traces in an instant, giving his whole attention to the business of keeping them taut and of placing each iron-shod hoof just where was the surest footing. In this last you may imagine there is no knack.
Since then, no complaint or moan of any kind.... But to go back. On Sunday, the day after I wrote, as I was coming from a walk, I met a little boy making mournful sounds on a tin whistle. "Coom ahn!" he said, "the Miss wahnts t' zee yu." I went to her room. In the morning she had seemed better, but now looked utterly exhausted. She had a letter in her hand. "It's this," she said.
"What deh hell's wrong?" he demanded. "Come out, all of yehs, come out," his mother was howling. "Come ahn an' I'll stamp her damn brains under me feet." "Shet yer face, an' come home, yeh damned old fool," roared Jimmie at her. She strided up to him and twirled her fingers in his face. Her eyes were darting flames of unreasoning rage and her frame trembled with eagerness for a fight.
"Dis all blows over. See? Deh ol' woman 'ill be all right in deh mornin'. Come ahn out wid me! We'll have a hell of a time." The woman on the floor cursed. Jimmie was intent upon his bruised fore-arms. The girl cast a glance about the room filled with a chaotic mass of debris, and at the red, writhing body of her mother. "Go teh hell an' good riddance." She went.
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