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Updated: May 24, 2025
'Tis cowld outside th' dure, ye say, but 'tis war-rum in here; an' I'm gettin' in me ol' age to think that the diff'rence between hivin an' hell is no broader" Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the back room. It was unmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. McKenna turned suddenly in amazement as Mr. Dooley bolted.
She had cheeks like th' roses, an' hair iv th' same, An' a mouth like ripe sthrawburries burrid in crame. He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased while he sang: Chip, chip, a little horse; Chip, chip, again, sir. How manny miles to Dublin? Threescure an' tin, sir. The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. He lifted her tenderly, and carried her over to his bed.
"Ah," said Mr. Hennessy, the simple democrat. "It wud be all r-right if women'd do their own cookin'." "Well," said Mr. Dooley. "'Twud be a return to Jacksonyan simplicity, an' 'twud be a gr-reat thing f'r th' resthrant business." "It looks like war," said Mr. Hennessy, who had been glancing at the flaming head-lines of an evening paper over Mr. Dooley's shoulder. "It always does," said Mr.
If they come to me I'll sind thim to th' Paris Survivors' Mechanical Relief Association, an' they can go down an' set on a cake iv ice an' wait till th' man in charge finds thim a job managin' a diamond mine." Mr. Hennessy dismissed Mr. Dooley's fancy sketch with a grin and remarked: "These here expositions is a gran' thing f'r th' progress iv th' wurruld."
In the publicity of their own taverns they entertained no great regard for each other. Mr. Schwartzmeister said a friend of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed that he would rather go to a harness-shop for whiskey than to Mr. Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna was amazed to learn that Mr.
Very cautiously, as became one wise in the ways of life in that place, Cake peered around a barrel. She saw Red Dan, who sold papers in front of Jeer Dooley's place, thoroughly punishing another and much larger boy. The bigger boy was crying. "Anybody c'n sell pipers," shouted Red Dan, pounding the information home bloodily. "You hear me? anybody!"
Ye say, 'I'll go over to see Dooley, sometimes, but more often ye say, 'I'll go over to Dooley's. I'm a house to ye, wan iv a thousand that look like a row iv model wurrukin'men's cottages. I'm a post to hitch ye'er silences to. I'm always about th' same to ye. But to me I'm a millyon Dooleys an' all iv thim sthrangers to ME. I niver know which wan iv thim is comin' in.
As Christian and Larry left the kennel yard, this moment had been reached. Dooley's nose was in the air, her mouth was as round as the neck of a bottle, her white throat looked as long as a swan's throat, and the bark was softening into sobs. Christian flung herself down, and gathered her and her sister, the second Rinka, into her arms.
But this rather increased than diminished Alderman Dooley's difficulties, for old Battle being unable to quicken his pace, the urchins made him the object of their mischief, and so retarded his progress that the major had arrived full half an hour when he reached the hotel. In truth, he was compelled to dismount and lead the animal, in order to secure his own safety.
There was hardly a soul in the road from the red bridge, west, when Mr. McKenna got laboriously off the platform of his car and made for the sign of somebody's celebrated Milwaukee beer over Mr. Dooley's tavern. Mr. Dooley, being a man of sentiment, arranges his drinks to conform with the weather. Mr. Dooley was drinking this mixture behind his big stove when Mr. McKenna came in.
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