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Updated: June 11, 2025
"That's all right!" she retorted to the last sally, which happened to be Chas's. "There are swains in this town who might boost their standing a little if only they'd patronize the florist once in a while!" Hellup!" He fled to the kitchen to look after his little brown beauties. The noisy supper proceeded. Presently Major Cooney, the easy-going and reminiscent, gave the conversation a new tack.
The Heths' poor relations, the Cooneys, lived in a two-story frame house on Centre Street, four doors from a basement dry-cleaning establishment, and staring full upon the show-window of an artificial-limb manufactory, lately opened for the grisly trade. The interval between the families of Heth and Cooney was as these facts indicate.
He had the reputation of being wealthy, and in fact was so; indeed, of the two, those who had reason to know, considered that he held the weightier purse; his name was Cooney Finigan, and the object of his visit to Murray their conversation, however, will sufficiently develop that.
As it happened there came a letter from Hen Cooney by the same mail that brought mamma's death-dealing one from Mrs. McVey. For Hen, who had never dreamed of corresponding with Cally before, had started up this summer with a long and quite affectionate steamer-letter, and had since written regularly once a week, the newsiest and really the most interesting letters that the Heths got at all.
Having drawn a stray sheet of paper toward him to scribble on it "Milk for Miggs," he was caught and engrossed by other inscriptions on the sheet, noted down in the early forenoon. Dayne Settlement Begin canvass not before Feb. 1. H. Cooney Todd Inst. Night School? Socks? Or darning Playground. G. Loan 20c.
The car, pushing through a mean and shabby neighborhood, offensive to refined eyes, ears, and nostrils, now turned into a narrow street brisk with the din of business, but by no means lovely to look upon. Recalling the Cooney presence, Cally suddenly stirred with the deadly self-protective instinct of her sex, and directed Hen to cease instantly all thinking about her and Mr. Canning.
It was a mass on tackle play, and Jim Cooney was getting his Cornell opponent out of the way for Kafer to go over the line. The picture gave Jim dead away. He had a firm grip of the Cornell man's jersey and arm. Ten years or more afterward, a group, including Cooney, was sitting in the Osborn Club. In a spirit of fun one man said, 'Jim, we know now how you got your reputation as a tackle.
"Why, my dear!" interrupted Carlisle, smiling rather dangerously. "You'll make me believe that you admire the man immensely." Hen laughed, and replied enigmatically: "Well, it's nice to feel free to admire what's admirable, don't you think so?" "You do admire him very much?" "I think he's perfectly precious," said Henrietta Cooney.
"Why doesn't your friend try attending to his own, then, the medical business, instead of interfering all the time with other people's?" The Cooney answered quite easily: "You see, he'd say this was his business." Then she smiled a little, thoughtfully, and said: "He'd say, Cally, that the world's all one family, and everybody's responsible for everybody else.
It must be that the strange young man was obsessed by beautiful but impossible ideas about the equality of the poor and so on. Carried away by excessive sympathies, he took wild extreme views.... "Are you going to stay for tea, Hen?" she asked, amid the stir and vocal noises of two hundred women. But Hen said no; getting tea for the Cooney invalids was her portion.
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