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Updated: June 19, 2025
He lingered late that evening, but at length took his hat from under his chair, rose, and extended his hand. "Man alive!" she cried, "that's my hand, sur, I'd have ye to know. Begahn wid ye! Lookut heere! What's the reason ye make it so long atween yer visits, eh? Tell me that. Ah ah ye've no need fur to tell me, Mr. Ristofalo! Ah now don't tell a lie!" "Too busy. Come all time wasn't too busy."
"Oäl de rest gone." "How much?" asked Ristofalo, still handling the fruit. The Sicilian came to the barrel, looked in, and said, with a gesture of indifference: "'M doll' an' 'alf." Ristofalo offered to take them at a dollar if he might wash and sort them under the dealer's hydrant, which could be heard running in the back yard.
She did us the honor to stop the carriage, and drive up to the curb-stone for a little chat. Her spirits were up, for Colonel Ristofalo had just been made a city councilman by a rousing majority. We expressed our regret not to see Raphael himself in the family group enjoying the exquisite air. "Ha, ha! He ride out for pleasure?" And then, with sudden gravity, "Aw, naw, sur! He's too busy.
She took his arm, the hackman seized the bundles from the policeman, threw open his hack door, laid the bundles on the front seat, and let down the folding steps. The crowd dwindled away to a few urchins. "Officerr," said Mrs. Ristofalo, her foot on the step and composure once more in her voice, "ye needn't arrist um.
Late that afternoon Richling, still wet to the skin, amid pushing and yelling and the piping calls of distracted women and children, and scuffling and cramming in, got Kate Ristofalo, trunks, baskets, and babes, safely off on the cars.
Richling, dazed and trembling, kept his eyes still on the ground, while Ristofalo moved with him slowly away from the squalid group that gazed after them. They went toward the Italian's cell. "Why are you in prison?" asked the vagrant, feebly. "Oh, nothin' much witness in shootin' scrape talk 'bout aft' while." "O Ristofalo," groaned Richling, as they entered, "my wife! my wife!
"I haven't been employed for some time." "I goin' t'employ myself," said Ristofalo. Richling laughed again. There was a faint betrayal of distress in his voice as it fell upon the cunning ear of the Italian; but he laughed too, very gently and innocently, and stood in his tracks. "I wouldn't like to refuse a dollar to a man who needs it," said Richling.
The hack hurried down Old Levee street. "And now," said she, merriment dancing in her eyes, her folded arms tightening upon her bosom, and her lips struggling against their own smile, "I'm just a good mind not to tell ye at ahll!" Her humor was contagious and Richling was ready to catch it. His own eye twinkled. "Well, Mrs. Ristofalo, of course, if you feel any embarrassment"
She threw some gentle rebuke into her glance, and turned it upon him. He met it with that same amiable absence of emotion that was always in his look. "Kate too short by itself?" he asked. "Aw righ'; make it Kate Ristofalo." "No," said Mrs. Riley, averting and drooping her face. "Take good care of you," said the Italian; "you and Mike. Always be kind. Good care." Mrs.
The vagrant sank limply to the pavement, his companion quickly untying the jacket sleeves from under his own arms and wadding the garment under Richling's head. "Do you know what I'm in here for, Ristofalo?" moaned Richling. "Don't know, don't care. Yo' wife know you here?" Richling shook his head on the jacket. The Italian asked her address, and Richling gave it.
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