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"With the double company of French and British, there was rather a tight squeeze in the shelters, wonderfully commodious as they were. "Now this," said Corporal Flannigan, "is what I call something like a dug-out." He looked appreciatively round the square, smooth-walled chamber and up the steps to the small opening which gave admittance to it. "Good dodge, too, this sinking it deep underground.
"'Tis some time befure they comprehind that there ar-re other candydates in th' field. But th' other candydates know it. Th' sthrongest iv thim his name is Flannigan, an' he's a re-tail dealer in wines an' liquors, an' he lives over his establishment.
I thought it bad taste in Bella, under the circumstances, after snubbing Dallas and Max, and of course treating Jim like the dirt under her feet, to turn right around and be lovely to Mr. Harbison. It was hard for Jim. Max came and sat beside me, and Flannigan, who had been sent down for more cups, passed tea, putting the tray on top of the chimney.
"That Flannigan boy always runs those cows home," said the aunt, disapprovingly, as she passed the window. "I have always heard it was bad for the milk," assented Mrs. Anderson. Now that her callers were on the move, Mrs. Anderson was exceedingly cordial. She said something further about the quality of the cream obtained from the cows, and the aunt said yes, it was very good, although so dear.
I only kissed your hand, anyhow, and I don't know why you sat in the den all evening; you might have known that Bella would notice it. Why couldn't you leave me alone to my misery?" "Very well," I said, much offended. "After this I shall sit with Flannigan in the kitchen. He is the only gentleman in the house."
With the memory of Hester's face firmly fixed on her dazed old brain, Mother Flannigan entered the public-house. Then a queer thing happened. By the side of Hester's pure, highly-wrought face arose the picture of another of a very suffering, thirsty little grandchild, who lay waiting for her on a bed of straw at home.
Then Flannigan creaked over and closed the door into the hall, came back, picked up the watch, and looked at it. "You're unlucky, I'm thinkin'," he said finally. "You've got the nerve all right, but you ain't cute enough." "I don't know what you mean," I quavered. "Give me that watch to return to Mr. Harbison." "Not on your life," he retorted easily.
Once there was a smart rap, an oath from the policeman, and a mirthless chuckle from Jim. The chuckle ended in a crash, however, and I turned. Jim was lying on his back on the roof, and Flannigan was wiping his ear with a towel. Jim sat up and ran his hand down his ribs. "They're all here," he observed after a minute. "I thought I missed one."
It will be daylight pretty soon, and if you get sight of that boat, call up the City Hall Station at once. Do you get me?" He wheeled about, smiling whimsically. "It's on again, off again, Flannigan. We had it, and we have it not. Dave I am getting interested; I feel the lure of the chase. What say you? Can you spare me for a day or two?
Alf. Doten, Miss Minnie Flannigan, Mrs. Charles E. Bosnell and Mrs. John Franzman. Mrs. Hood, the second vice-president, and chairman of civics in the State Federation of Women's Clubs, was the leading factor in getting its endorsement at its meeting in Reno, Oct. 30, 1913.
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