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"Well, Dorgan had th' divvle's own time paradin' up an' down an' sindin' out ordhers to sthrike to ivry man he knowed of till th' la-ad comes over las' Choosdah avenin', dhressed in his rigimintals with a gun as long as a clothes-pole over his shoulder. 'Hughey, said th' father, 'you look very gran' to-night, he says.
"Roguery," said he, "Misthur Hees, is a sthrong term; and which, in consideration of my friendship for your family, I shall pass over. You doubt your son's honour, as there wrote by him in black and white?" "You have forced him to write," said Mr. Hayes. "The sly old divvle's right," muttered Mr. Macshane, aside. "Well, sir, to make a clean breast of it, he HAS been forced to write it.
'How did ye come out? says I. 'I haven't a cint lift but me renommynation f'r th' ligislachure, says he. 'Well, says I, 'Cassidy, I says, 'ye've been up again what th' pa-apers call hawt finance, I says. 'What th' divvle's that? says he. 'Well, says I, 'it ain't burglary, an' it ain't obtainin' money be false pretinses, an' it ain't manslaughter, I says.
"If anything happens, it will be the 'divvle's' fault, so you mustn't hold me responsible." "It's ye'er own divvle, ain't it? ye can make it do what ye want." "I don't know," protested Patricia. "I didn't even know I had a 'divvle. It was you who discovered it; and people who discover things have to be responsible for them, don't they?" Riley shook his head in desperation.
So he takes th' place, an' th' chances ar-re he's th' biggest omadhon in th' wurruld, an' knows no more about r-runnin' a counthry thin I know about ladin' an orchesthry. An', if he don't do annything, he's a dummy, an', if he does do annything, he's crazy; an' whin he dies, his foreman says: 'Sure, 'tis th' divvle's own time I had savin' that bosthoon fr'm desthroyin' himsilf.
But, seein' that on'y thim is iligible that are unfit, he has th' divvle's own time selectin'. F'r Sicrety iv State, if he follows all iv what Casey calls recent precidints, he's limited to ayether a jack-leg counthry lawyer, that has set around Washington f'r twinty years, pickin' up a dollar or two be runnin' errands f'r a foreign imbassy, or a judge that doesn't know whether th' city of Booloogne-sure-Mere, where Tynan was pinched, is in Boolgahria or th' County Cavan.
That night come up th' divvle's own storm. Th' waves tore an' walloped th' ol' boat, an' th' wind howled, an' ye cud hear th' machinery snortin' beyant. Murther, but I was sick.
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