Two days later he again appeared in the office with the result of a count that had been asked for by Mr. Hesse, the bookkeeper. Mr. Hesse was engaged and Dalyrimple, waiting, began idly fingering in a ledger on the stenographer's desk. Half unconsciously he turned a page he caught sight of his name it was a salary list: Dalyrimple Demming Donahoe Everett His eyes stopped
The wheel-track stopped where you turned off to go to the Donahoe farm, but no old Mary was there to give friendly welcome. The old man got stiffly down from the side-car and limped past the gate with a sigh; but Nora hurried ahead, carrying the big baby, not because he could n't walk, but because he could.
Barney Donahoe softly opened our door, stooped his head under the lintel, and gazed a few moments at the quiet face turned to the Thanksgiving turkey. Man after man followed to gaze on the company's favorite, and on the fowl which, they knew, tangibly symbolized to him the immense love of the nation for the flower of its manhood in the field.
Old Peter Murphy's gone, she says, an' his brother that lived over by Ballycannon died the same week with him, and Dan Donahoe an' Corny Donahoe's lost their old aunt on the twelfth of March, that gave them her farm to take care of her before I came out. She was old then, too." "Faix, it was time for the old lady, so it was," said Patrick Quin, with affectionate interest.
Among the women who worked for woman suffrage in addition to those mentioned in the chapter were Mesdames Margaret Cartright, S. F. Culberson, George W. Carr, Josie Lockard, J. R. Kinyon, H. F. LaBelle, N. J. Strumquist, Margaret Medler, William J. Barker, Lansing Bloom, C. E. Mason, R. P. Donahoe, Ruth Skeen, John W. Wilson, S. C. Nutter, Catherine Patterson, Minnie Byrd, Howard Huey, Alfred Grunsfeld, Edgar L. Hewett, I. H. Elliot and I. H. Rapp.
Well, then, 'tis bad news of old Mary Donahoe bein' gone at the farm. I always thought if I 'd go home how I 'd go along the fields to get the great welcome from her. She was one that always liked to hear folks had done well," and he looked down at his comfortable, clean old clothes as if they but reminded him how poor a young fellow he had come away.
I think I hear Barney Donahoe pulling our latch-string that November night when we first heard of the great Thanksgiving dinner that was being collected in New York for the army. "Byes, did yez hear phwat Sergeant Cunningham was tellin' av the Thanksgivin' turkeys that's comin'?" "Come in out of the rain, Barney," says Charley, feebly. "Faith, I wish I dar', but it's meself is on shtable-guard.
Barney Donahoe ran past me with a leg, and two laughing men after him. Those who secured larger portions took a bite as quickly as possible, and yielded the rest to clutching hands. The bologna sausage was shared in like fashion, but I never heard of any one who got a taste of the pies. "Here's your turkey, Charley," said I, entering with my burden. "Where's yours, Ned?"
Patrick Donahoe died July 12. 18 ." Now the exclamation-point after "Deo" and the statement of the fact of Mr. D.'s demise following immediately thereafter made the epitaph to read, "Glory to God in the highest! Patrick is dead."
Another suggested drawing lots; a third that we should set the Thanksgiving dinner at one end of the parade ground and run a race for it, "grab who can." At this Barney Donahoe spoke up. "Begorra, yez can race for wan turkey av yez loike. But the other wan is goin' to Char-les Wilson!" There was not a dissenting voice.