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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Childher!" said Mr. Dooley. "Sure I have th' finest fam'ly in th' city. Without scandal I'm th' father iv ivry child in Ar-rchey r-road fr'm end to end." "An' none iv ye'er own," said Mr. Hennessy. "I wish to hell, Hinnissy," said Mr. Dooley savagely, "ye'd not lean against that mirror, I don't want to have to tell ye again." The troubled Mr. Hennessy had been telling Mr.
Worthington found himself whatever it was must be a very desperate one. He half rose in his chair, sat down again, and lighted another match. "Er director in the Truro Road, hain't you, Mr. Worthington?" asked Jethro, without looking at him. "Yes." "Er principal stockholder ain't you?" "Yes but that is neither here nor there, sir." "Road don't pay r-road don't pay, does it?"
'Where ar-re ye goin', Petey? says I. 'I was jus' takin' a short cut home, he says. In three minyits th' r-road was full iv polismin. They'd been a robbery down in Halsted Sthreet. A man that had a grocery sthore was stuck up, an' whin he fought was clubbed near to death; an' they'd r-run Scanlan through th' alleys to his father's house. That was as far as they'd go.
Yesterday he come rarin' in to f-find out what I told him that for. 'Fellow, I says, 'Fellow, any r-road you can g-get over is a good road in this country. It's t-thataway with marriage, son, an' don't you forget it a h-holy minute. Another thing, this being u-united in wedlock ain't no sinecure." "Ain't no which kind of a sin?" inquired Reeves. Dud Hollister grinned admiringly.
What shall we do with thim? "We haven't anny," said Mr. Hennessy. "No," said Mr. Dooley. "Ar-rchey r-road has no servant girl problem. Th' rule is ivry woman her own cook an' ivry man his own futman, an' be th' same token we have no poly-gamy problem an' no open dure problem an' no Ph'lippeen problem.
"But that's not here or there, avick. I was r-readin' in th' pa-apers iv a lad be th' name iv Scanlan bein' sint down th' short r-road f'r near a lifetime; an' I minded th' first time I iver see him, a bit iv a curly-haired boy that played tag around me place, an' 'd sing 'Blest Saint Joseph' with a smile on his face like an angel's. Who'll tell what makes wan man a thief an' another man a saint?
"Of course I knew it was you." "Oh, Sydney, dear Sydney, did your heart tell you that your lover was on the r-road?" The girl blushed hotly at this bold speech, but she declined to be sentimental. "Not at all," she said. "There was other evidence. Who else could sing like you, 'Oh, I wees' I was in Deexie'?"
Again June whispered, "Yes, sir," but this time her honest eyes lifted and went straight into his. "An' you." The justice turned his batteries on the groom. "You w-wanta recollect that this r-road you've done chose ain't no easy one to t-travel. Tenderfoot come in the other day an' w-wanted to know what kind of a road it was to S-stinking Creek. I tell him it's a g-good road.
But whin a man with long whiskers comes r-ridin' up th' r-road an' says: 'Jan Schmidt or Pat O'Toole or whativer his name is, ye're wanted at th' front, he goes home an' takes a rifle fr'm th' wall an' kisses his wife an' childher good-bye an' puts a bible in th' tails iv his coat an' a stovepipe hat on his head an' thramps away. An' his wife says: 'Good-bye, Jan.
Tell me frinds that wan gang iv good la-ads fr'm th' r-road cud wurruk anny three iv th' gangs down here. Th' mills is owned be Rockefellar, so no more at prisint fr'm yer affecshunate nevvew, Peter Casey, who's writin' this f'r me." "'Tis a good letter," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't see how they cud get derrick hands f'r six a week." "Me frind Jawn D. knows how," said Mr. Dooley.
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