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Updated: May 18, 2025
She was standing in the doorway, her arms akimbo and her sleeves rolled up. "Captain Leeds, it's all ready." Leonard's arms were still about Marjorie. "Captain Leeds, otherwise known as Lieutenant Leeds," he said, "once known as Leonard, presents his compliments to Mrs. Bridget O'Garrity, née Flannagan, and wishes her to request Mr.
But his thoughts, if not his hopes, received a check when, with every plan made and Miss Weeks, as well as Reuther, in trembling anticipation of the journey, he encountered the triumphant figure of Flannagan coming out of Police Headquarters. His jaunty air, his complaisant nod, admitted of but one explanation. He had told his story to the chief authorities and been listened to.
It made me mad to hear him talk that way, and I set him down on the starboard anchor and I argued it. I told him of the little town of Greenough, and then I told him of Madge Pemberton, that afterwards was Madge McCulloch, and how the old shore village lay, its street and white houses and its church with the gilded cupola, till Flannagan got interested. And there we talked a long time.
Stevey Todd went back to the galley, and it seemed to me the difference between his nature and Flannagan's was something to wonder at and admire, and when I saw Flannagan he seemed to have the same opinion with me, for he says: "Powers an' fryin' pans! Thot cook!" he says. "Thot galley shlave! Thot boiled pertaty widout salt! Shall a barrel of flour put me in the soup? Tell me thot!"
"`God save Ireland! says she, addressing Terence. `Be yez the docther jintlemen from the hospital, avic? "`Faix, we're that, says my companion; `the pair of us! "`Thin come along, says she. `Mistress Flannagan is dyin' to say you, sure. The soight of yez is good for sore eyes! "`Begorrah! says Terence, `I wouldn't have come at all at all if she hadn't been dyin', the poor crayture!
From them the long row of cots, with here and there a man asleep or a man hastily undressing, stretched, lighted by occasional feeble electric-light bulbs, to the sergeant's little table beside the door. "You're gettin' a dis-charge, aren't you?" asked a man with a brogue, and the red face of a jovial gorilla, that signified the bartender. "Yes, Flannagan, I am," said the lanky man dolefully.
Then he clutched his hair, and waddled down the corridor, shrieking, and the purple dress began to gobble with her laughter. "Why," she says, in a mellow voice "Ho! ho! haw! haw! Why does the distinguished senor cast the Minister of Military and Internal Peace thus upon his digesting, immediately his too great meal thereafter?" "Hivins!" says Flannagan.
"'Gintlemen, he says, 'ye must excuse me, he says, 'in such matthers. 'D'ye mane to say, says Cassidy, th' plumber, 'that ye won't do annything f'r my son? 'Do annything, says Flannagan. 'Do? he says.
One thing, however, is certain if all the love that was felt for policemen in general by the men in that room could have been combined in a single individual it still scarcely would have constituted a grand passion. Flannagan felt rather than saw that others were closing in on him, and then, fortunately for himself, he thought, he managed to draw his weapon.
Not Barnum's, nor the Flannagan an' Imparial, would compare with it. An' 'tis thrue, ma'am, as a showman in the profession, I couldn't be exprissin' betther me wondher an' admiration." Then the tin-type man put in, and he sneered some: "I ain't much on admiration and wonder." "You're not, typist," says Flannagan. "'Tis curdled like he is, ma'am, wid inveterate scorn, the poor man!"
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