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Updated: June 16, 2025
Just 'cause I had pushed that side box till it swung aside on hinges I didn't know about, and there, in a little secret nest, was a pile of those same crisp, crinkly paper things I'd been looking for. 20 40 60 110 160 210 260 310! Three hundred and ten dollars, Mag Monahan. Three hundred and ten, and Nance Olden! "Glory be!" I whispered. "Glory be damned!" I heard behind me. I turned.
Tom, to oblige a friend of Miss Olden's; but I must insist that he does not talk like a farmer." He was quite close to Tom when he finished, and Tom was glaring up at him. And, Mag, I didn't know which one I was most afraid for. Don't you look at me that way, Mag Monahan, and don't you dare to guess anything!
Monahan said he could not understand why the Government was to be fettered by notions of political economy at such a crisis as this.
"I got some stuff in my room, Pete," said the friendly fellow who had overtaken him. "Come up and have a jolt, and we can have a talk. 'Lefty' and Monahan think you went flop on the job, but I know better, eh? The old man always picks you for these singles; he never gives me a shot at 'em." Then he added: "Here we are!"
Fanny surveyed the book with pardonable pride. But she was not satisfied. "We lack style," she said. "The practical garments are all right. But what we need is a little snap. That means cut and line. And I'm going to New York to get it." That had always been Slosson's work. She and Ella Monahan were to go to the eastern markets together. Ella Monahan went to New York regularly every three weeks.
Isn't that 'Lias Brewster the horridest-looking child!" said Eliza, who had the second grade all to herself, although Molly now read out of the second reader with her. "Mercy, yes! So ragged!" said Anastasia Monahan, called Stashie for short. She was a big girl, fourteen years old, who was in the seventh grade. "He doesn't look as if he EVER combed his hair!" said Betsy.
Miss Monahan, you've got to meet him. He's" then, as the great frame of the handsome old priest filled the doorway "he's just Father Fitzpatrick. Ella Monahan." The white-haired Irishman, and the white-haired Irish woman clasped hands. "And who are you, daughter, besides being Ella Monahan?" "Buyer of gloves at Haynes-Cooper, Father." "You don't tell me, now!"
Duff looked even neater than in his street clothes. His shirts, scarfs, trousers, shoes and caps form combinations which are sartorial poems. Duff smiled complacently during the tongue lashing administered by the irate Monahan. This happens regularly every time they play. One would think that the calm, unruffled Duff would defeat the nervous and impatient Monahan, but nothing of the kind happens.
I could see that he didn't believe a word I was saying, which made me happily eager to tell him more. "Yes, we drove up to the Square one afternoon in the Bishop's carriage the fat, plum-colored one, you know. We had tea there at least, I did. I was to have spent the night, but " "That's enough of that." I chuckled. Yes, Mag Monahan, I was enjoying myself.
Jason occasionally descended. Anecdote and political reminiscence gave place here to matters of high policy. I had several times come to the saloon in the days of my apprenticeship in search of some judge or official, and once I had run down here the city auditor himself. Mike Monahan, whose affair it was to know everyone, recognized me.
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