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Updated: May 6, 2025
Wan lad amused himsilf be callin' th' turn twinty-wan times in succession, an' th' check rack was down to a margin iv eleven whites an' fifty-three cints in change. Mike looked around th' crowd, an' turned down th' box. 'Gintlemen, says he, 'th' game is closed. Business conditions are such, he says, 'that I will not be able to cash in ye'er checks, he says.
Mike leaped to his feet as though a spring had suddenly uncoiled beneath him, waving his arms in wild excitement, and dancing about on his short legs. "Two dollars an' sixty cints! Did ye hear that, now? For the love of Hivin! an' the union wages three sixty! Ye 're a dommed scab, an' it's meself that 'll wallup ye just for luck. It's crazy Oi am to do the job.
"'Twould be a rare joke on the Boss," he said, "to be stalin' from him the very thing he's trusted me to guard, and be getting me wages all winter throwed in free. And you're making the pay awful high. Me to be getting five hundred for such a simple little thing as that. You're trating me most royal indade! It's away beyond all I'd be expecting. Sivinteen cints would be a big price for that job.
He was on horseback; an', Hinnissy, if dollars was made out iv Babbit metal, an' horses was worth sixty-sivin cints a dhrove, ye cudden't buy a crupper." "Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me hathred iv capital." "So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital this afthernoon showed its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to match blisters to see which hates th' worst.
"How thim clerks do loike to be talkin'! Me proceed to collect two dollars and twinty-foive cints off Misther Morehouse! I wonder do thim clerks know Misther Morehouse? I'll git it! Oh, yes! 'Misther Morehouse, two an' a quarter, plaze. 'Cert'nly, me dear frind Flannery. Delighted! Not!" Flannery drove the express wagon to Mr. Morehouse's door. Mr. Morehouse answered the bell.
At this moment the refrain of a song from somewhere near the board fence came wafting through the air, "And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy." McGaw turned his head in search of the singer, and not finding him, resumed his position. "What are your rates per ton?" asked Babcock. "We're a-chargin' forty cints," said McGaw, deferring to Lathers, as if for confirmation. "Who's 'we'?"
How in the world do you expect to live and keep a horse on seventy cents a day?" "Some days I have half a dozen jobs, sor. But bizness has been dull to-day, sor. On'y the hauling of a thrunk for a gintilman for forty cints an' a load av furniture for thirty cints; an' there was the pots an' the kittles, an' there's no telling phat; a big load, sor."
No more o' ye's goin' to l'ave this room 'till I gits nine dollars and sixty cints. Here, Macaroni' and he called the Italian 'ring up the station-house and till thim to sind somebody 'round. Ye can't play that game on me!" "'My dear fellow, I said I had now to be as courteous as I could 'I don't want to play anything on you.
When he reached the office he was followed by sixteen boys. Some of them had spades, some of them had small fire-shovels, some had only pointed sticks, but all were ready to dig. He showed them where he had already dug. "Twinty-five cints apiece, annyhow," he said, "an' five dollars fer th' lucky wan that finds it." "All right," said one. "Now what is it we are to dig for?"
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