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Updated: June 5, 2025
It wasn't like the Pentagon or the White House or any of the other historical or glamour symbols in Washington, D.C. It was on a side street, and while no one associated it with governmental activity, it was of a size and importance that justified a uniformed attendant in the lobby. He was a hard-bitten old Irishman named Callahan, and nobody got past him without justification.
The old man smiled as he folded the letter and put it into his pocket, saying as he did so: "By next ship I leave for Hamburg to take life up where I laid it down." The only man now living of those bunk-house days is Thomas J. Callahan. He has been attached for many years to Yale University and doing the work of a janitor. Many Yale men will never forget how "Doc" cared for Dwight Hall.
"Harry them, rack them, rob them, Rob them, rack them, harry them Harry them, rack them, rob them, Rob them, rack them, harry them." This he sung in an air somewhat like "Judy Callahan." "Ha, ha, ha! Oh the devil bless him! and they say a blessin' from the devil is very like a curse from God."
If we give in such cases as this, we will not have funds to meet real need." "If you must know," said Mrs. Callahan, "I lent them two dollars to the colored lady next door. Her rent was due on Wednesday and she'll get the money for her wash to-night. I told Peggy not to tell you, for you'd told me so partic'lar not to spend a cent of that money but if you must know, you must.
Did you hear or see anything from the barn while you were down there?" "Well, to tell the truth, sur, Oi didn't notice anythin' at the toime, bein' that interested in me pet chickens, sur. Ye see, Pat Callahan gave me three foine Leghorns, an' " "Never mind the Leghorns. If you saw or heard anything, what was it?" "'Twas something Oi was afther hearin', sur.
There were many calls on the limited fund at her command. "The money from the workhouse for your husband's labor will pay the rent," she calculated. "I will give you a small grocery order twice a week. You can manage with that?" "Oh, yessum, splendid, and thank you kindly, ma'am," said Mrs. Callahan. "Don't put down meat just a little piece onct a week so's not to forget the taste.
He was in that store-room day before yesterday, or rather night before last. Callahan saw him coming out of there." Lidgerwood sat back in his chair and smiled. "I don't blame you much, Mac; this thing is getting to be pretty binding upon all of us. But I think you are mistaken in your conclusion, I mean.
Don't none of us eat much and we can do with terrible little," Peggy concluded breathlessly. "What is your name? where do you live? I shall have to see your mother and talk to her," said Miss Margery. "My name's Peggy Callahan and we live out that way," waving her hand northward. "There ain't no number to the house.
At Sleepy Cat town the main line leaves the Rat, and if a tenderfoot brakeman ask a reservation buck why the mountain is called Sleepy Cat the Indian will answer, always the same, "It lets the Rat run away." "Now it's possible," suggested Hughie Morrison, looking vaguely at the stove, "that the wires are down." "Nonsense," objected Callahan.
"Take your medicine like a good girl," said Honey-Sweet's little mother, "and I'll let you hold my baby doll in your own hands." Lois opened her mouth to receive the bitter draught and then stretched out her arms for Honey-Sweet. She touched shoes and dress and hair with light, admiring fingers. "Pretty sweet Honey," she murmured. Mrs. Callahan breathed a sigh of relief.
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