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"Go to't," returned the mucker cheerfully; "I'd even wear side whiskers fer youse." "Horrors!" exclaimed Barbara Harding. "I couldn't look at you if you did." "Well, then, tell me wot youse do want me to do."
Now he swung suddenly upon her. "He's on de square, ain't he?" he demanded. "Yes," said Barbara. She was not quite sure whether to feel offended, or not. But the memory of Billy's antecedents came to his rescue. Of course he didn't know that it was such terribly bad form to broach such a subject to her, she thought. "Well, then," continued the mucker, "wot's up? Mallory's de guy fer youse.
Barbara why wasn't I born for the likes of you, and not just a measly, ornery mucker like I am.
But it was as if I had met God face to face and He had taken pity on a dirty little street mucker and He had lifted me in His great hands and had told me to try to be good and He would help me. I never had believed in God before. And I came back from that trip resolved to put up a fight. "Mr.
When they had held their ground and opposed him, as some upon the West Side had felt sufficiently muscular to do, the mucker had not hesitated to "hand them one." Thus only might a man uphold his reputation for bravery in the vicinage of Grand Avenue.
Feeling the strain of the situation, Rigby talked with earnest volubility. He led the conversation into many lines the war in the Philippines, the banquet, the play which Jane and Graydon were seeing. The thought of the play brought a shade of despair to his brow pretty Miss Clegg was in the party with that "mucker" Medford.
"Do youse know me, old pal?" asked the mucker, and Barbara Harding knew from the man's voice that there were tears in his eyes; but what she did not know was that they welled there in response to the words the mucker had just spoken the nearest approach to words of endearment that ever had passed his lips. Theriere reached up and took Byrne's hand.
"I was up here with Larry Hilmore and the Goose Island Kid a year or so ago my name's Byrne," exclaimed Billy. "Sure," said the professor; "I gotcha now. You're de guy 'at Larry was a tellin' me about. He said you'd be a great heavy if you'd leave de booze alone." Billy smiled and nodded. "You don't look much like a booze fighter now," remarked Cassidy. "And I ain't" said the mucker.
And then, like a panther, the mucker sprang in with a vicious left hook to the jaw, followed, with lightning rapidity, by a right upper cut to the chin that lifted Battling Dago Pete a foot from the floor to drop him, unconscious, against the foot of the further wall.
That was the passenger, and Billy hated him, not because of anything that the man had said or done to Billy, for he had never even so much as spoken to the mucker, but because of the fine clothes and superior air which marked him plainly to Billy as one of that loathed element of society a gentleman. Billy hated everything that was respectable.
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