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Carlisle'd hand him out a plunk, a case, a buck. He'd say, 'Here, Larkin, ye're a dam fool to be malthreatin' th' currincy iv yer adophted counthry, but I have to give ye a dollar because ye're a good fellow an' a frind iv Dooley's." "He wouldn't say anything of the kind," said Mr. McKenna. "He'd give Larkin fifty cents." "I'd push his face in if he did," said Mr. Larkin, warmly.
An' he come with me to th' dure, holdin' th' lamp over his head. I looked back at him as I wint by; an' he was settin' be th' stove, with his elbows on his knees an' th' empty pipe between his teeth." Mr. McKenna, looking very warm and tired, came in to Mr. Dooley's tavern one night last week, and smote the bar with his fist. "What's the matter with Hogan?" he said. "What Hogan?" asked Mr. Dooley.
I'll go over to Dooley's an' get th' rale thing. So, afther thryin' to decipher this here corner iv a dhress patthern, ye climb into ye'er clothes f'r what may be ye'er last walk up Ar-rchy Road. As ye go along ye begin to think that maybe th' Dock knows ye have th' Asiatic cholery an' was onl'y thryin' to jolly ye with his manner iv dealin' with ye.
Some iv us hadn't spoke frindly to each other f'r twinty years, an' we set around an' tol' stories iv Roscommon an' its green fields, an' th' stirabout pot that was niver filled, an' th' blue sky overhead an' th' boggy ground undherfoot. 'Which Dooley was it that hamsthrung th' cows? 'Mike Dooley's Pat. 'Naw such thing: 'twas Pat Dooley's Mike.
"Did you think of doing all that?" she asked, astonished. "Oh, that wasn't anything. And I ventured to telephone the Plaza to serve luncheon and dinner here for you " "You did?" "And I wired to Dooley's Agency to send you a maid for to-day " "That was perfectly splendid of you!"
The only wonder was that instead of being instantly consumed by fire from heaven, Miller was permitted to waste away by slow degrees. But that was Father Dooley's good nature. The Galwegians say that a Belfast firm has taken the mill, and that therefore its future success is assured. The cutest citizens say that this entirely depends on the manager's theory as to workpeople.
When it was Peter Dooley's turn he examined the signature closely, and said, "But what name's this he's put to it? 'John Campion' I see, but divil a sign of any Polymathers." "Ah, that was another thing was botherin' me, too," said old O'Beirne, rather dejectedly, "a little while ago, when Dr. Hamilton was comin' to see him.
Promptly a big sergeant had interposed, and caught the corporal by the wrist, with thunderous "None of that, Dooley!" Prompt came Case's answer, though low-toned and guarded: "I'm drinking nothing, man, till after pay-day. Then come at me and I'll settle it with you drink for drink." But Dooley's Irish blood was up, five fingers of tanglefoot tingling in each fist and bubbling in his brain.
And, beginning to realize the awful import of his words, the only thing that restrained her from instant flight on foot was the hidden Clarence. She could not abandon her cat. She must wait for that maid. She waited. Meanwhile she hunted up Dooley's Agency in the telephone book and called them up.
His wandering glance finally came to rest on Jerry Dooley's alert countenance. Jerry crooked a finger at him and Matt strolled over to the desk. "I've been watching you milling the idea round in your head," said Jerry. "I saw you reject it. You're crazy! It can be done." "How?" Matt queried eagerly.
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