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Updated: June 27, 2025
Never before in his life had Jimmy realized what it meant to be prosperous, since for obvious reasons Young Brophy's manager was extremely liberal in the matter of salaries with all those connected with the training-camp.
So if ye weren't goin' to take your big ould pot away wid ye, ma'am, I thought I'd just mention it." Mrs. Brophy's withered little face flushed. "It's yerself that 'ud be welcome, I'm sure," she replied stiffly, "but that same pot Dan an' me bought when we got married, an' I don't think I could have the heart to part wid it." "Ah, that indeed, ma'am?
I'm supposed to be at the pony corral at midnight to turn the ponies loose an' bottle up the house gang in their shack. Brophy's bad medicine; you'd better pass up your eight-year-old lady friend an' come on back to the Lion Head with ol' Monody." I walked up an' down a time or two, thinkin' it over.
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!
Young Brophy's manager, whom Jimmy discovered to be one of the men who had accosted him in Feinheimer's after his trouble with Murray, took him into a private office and talked with him confidentially for a half-hour before he was definitely employed.
We all left him after a little, an' I sent Spider Kelley after the doctor. The' was only one member of Brophy's gang alive when I got back to the side porch, an' he was sinkin' fast.
Brophy's heart misgave her; his reverence would be apt to think bad of their going off that way, and him so good to them. Then Mrs. Kinsella's remarks rankled in her memory "an ould pot" that Mrs. Larry would despise in her elegant kitchen; the cool scrutiny with which she had surveyed all poor Mary's treasured belongings was hard to be borne.
There was quite a gathering that afternoon to watch Young Brophy's work-out, and rather a larger representation than usual from society's younger set. The program, which had consisted in part of shadow boxing and bag punching by Young Brophy, was to terminate with three rounds with Jimmy.
Jabez never moved, an' the boys lifted him mighty tender he'd been a good man to work for, spite of his queer ways. The two men in the doorway were still gaspin', but the rest of Brophy's gang had passed on as they had a right to expect, wearin' their boots an' their guns hot in their hands. Brophy himself had his neck broken, but his face didn't look bad. It was peaceful under the lantern light.
The boys hadn't paid much attention to him, thinkin' him one o' Brophy's gang, an' not carin' much whether or not he was comfortable, 'cause he was the most bloodthirsty lookin' of the whole bunch. "Are you hurt bad, Monody" I said. His face lit up with a smile. "I don't hurt at all, Happy, but I reckon I 'm done for the' ain't no feelin' in me from the waist down."
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