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'Th' Dutch ar-re no good because they aint good enough. No matther how they start they get th' noodle habit. I had wan, wanst, an' she got so she put noodles in me tay, I says. 'Th' Swedes ar-re all right but they always get marrid th' sicond day. Ye'll have a polisman at th' dure with a warrant f'r th' arrist iv ye'er cook if ye hire a Boheemyan, I says.
"A man" said the officer, dubiously; "sure, he ain't lookin' it." "Arrest him!" said Ivo Hobbs. "Devil a wan o' me," answered Dunne. "You'd better proceed by summons, me man. 'Tain't me juty to arrist monkeys, an 'twould not be becomin' t' the' dignity iv an officer iv th' law, anyway, t' be seen draggin' a baste iv thim proportions through the street." Mr.
He was very tired, but the warmth of his welcome brought a merry twinkle to his eyes and the ready blarney to his tongue. "Och! divil a bit wud ye be glad to see Mike Conlin if ye knowed he'd come to arrist ye. Jim, ye're me prisoner. Ye've been stalin a pauper a pair iv 'em, faith an' ye must answer fur it wid yer life to owld Belcher. Come along wid me.
"Officerr," she panted, for instantly there was a crowd, and a man with the silver-crescent badge was switching the assemblage on the legs with his cane to make room, "Officerr," she gasped, levelling her tremulous finger at Narcisse, "arrist that man!" "Mrs. Ristofalo!" exclaimed Richling, "don't do that! It was all an accident! Why, don't you see it's Narcisse, my friend?"
She took his arm, the hackman seized the bundles from the policeman, threw open his hack door, laid the bundles on the front seat, and let down the folding steps. The crowd dwindled away to a few urchins. "Officerr," said Mrs. Ristofalo, her foot on the step and composure once more in her voice, "ye needn't arrist um.
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