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Updated: June 24, 2025
Oh, Larken! that's Kelly: 'tis all one she was a Kelly before she was married, and in this country we stick to the maiden's name throughout. Mr. H. The same in our country often. Biddy. Indeed! and her daughter's name is Mabel, after the Kellys; for you might have noticed, if it ever happened your honour to hear it, an ould song of Mabel Kelly Planxty Kelly.
Ay, and quite another sort of an inn this was, I hear talk, in their time, and quite another guess sort, the Larkens from these Gallaghers. Mr. H. And what has become of the Larkens, I pray? Biddy. They are still living up yonder, by the bush of Bannow, in a snug little place of a cabin that is, the Widow Kelly. Mr. H. Kelly! but I am looking for Larken. Biddy.
Behind the desk, perplexed and distracted but still grimly firm, stood frowzy Widow Larken herself, drawn and held to the post of duty by this vast and unusual emergency.
The confusion of tongues must have been a very tame and quiet affair as compared to the polyglot chattering which burst upon Bobby's ears when he entered the small lobby of the Hotel Larken. The male members of the Neapolitan Grand Opera Company, almost to a man, were smoking cigarettes.
"We all went up and registered at a fourth-rate place they call the Hotel Larken, but that's as far as we got, for we were told before the ink was dry that we'd have to come across before we got a single biscuit; so there they are, scattered about the S. R. O. parts of that little two-by-twice hotel, waiting for little me to trot out and find an angel. Are you it?"
Widow LARKEN. On one side of her, MABEL at needle-work; on the other side, OWEN her son enters, bringing in a spinning-wheel, which he places before his mother. Owen. There, mother, is your wheel mended for you. Mabel. Oh, as good as new, Owen has made it for you. Widow. Well, whatever troubles come upon me in this world, have not I a right to be thankful, that has such good childer left me?
"Come on; we'll go right over to the Larken, wherever that may be," and he exhibited as much sudden haste as if he had seen seventy people actually starving before his very eyes. Just as the quartette stepped out of the office, Biff Bates, just coming in, bustled up to Bobby with: "Can I see you just a minute, Bobby? Kid Mills is coming around to my place this afternoon."
"Spratt," began Bobby, who knew the man quite well through "sporting" events engineered by Biff Bates, "the Neapolitan Grand Opera Company is stranded here, and " "Where are they?" interrupted Spratt eagerly, all his abstraction gone. "At the Hotel Larken," began Bobby again. "Have they got their props and scenery?" "Everything, I understand," said Bobby. "I came around to see you "
Mabel Larken is a very pretty girl. But wait till I tell you what Kit Monaghan said to me yesterday. I'm going to be married, sir, says he to me. Ay, so you mintioned to me a fortnight ago, Kit, says I to Rose Dermod, isn't it? says I. Not at all, sir, says he it is to Peggy McGrath, this time.
Oh! the thing is, he's a snug man, and money's at the bottom of all, and since Christy's to have the new inn, and Miss Gallagher has the money! Well, it's all over, and I don't know what will become of me. Enter Mr. Mr. H. My gude lad, may your name be Larken? Owen. It is, sir Owen Larken, at your service the son of the widow Larken. Mrs.
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