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"Just thin Morgan O'Toole come in, an' laned over th' ba-ar. He's been a dillygate to ivry town convention iv th' Raypublicans since I dinnaw whin. 'Well, says he, 'I see they're pilin' it on, he says. 'On th' dead? says I, be way iv a joke. 'No, he says; 'but did ye see they're puttin' up a monnymint over th' rebils out here be Oakwoods? he says.
Did ye iver have to wipe ye'er most intimate frinds off ye'er clothes, whin ye wint home at night? Where was he durin' th' war? he says. 'He was dhrivin' a grocery wagon f'r Philip Reidy, says I. 'An' what's he makin' th' roar about? says th' little man. 'He don't want anny wan to get onto him, says I. "O'Toole was gone be this time, an' th' little man laned over th' bar.
I seen where there was a big cake of griddle-bread coolin' itself, laned agin the windy-ledge, and man nor mortal near it. I might ha' raiched it down as aisy as puttin' me fut to the ground. But sure I was that knocked about wid one thing and another, I thought I wouldn't be bothered wid it, so I just left it where it was, I did so may God forgive me," she said, with unfeigned contrition.
"'Are ye av that opinion? he sez; an' thin he began talkin' av the campaign. The sweat av Silver's Theatre was not dhry upon him, an' he was prayin' for more work. I was well contint to lie and listen to the cook-pot lids. "Whin he got up off the ground he shtaggered a little, an' laned over all twisted. "'Ye've got more than ye bargained for, I sez. 'Take an inventory, Larry.
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