His mouth, d'ye mind,
took that there shape fr'm sayin' 'Dooley,' 'Dooley,' that he'd looked
as if he was whistlin'. D'ye mind? Dear, oh dear, 'tis th' divvle's
own fam'ly f'r religion."
Mr. McKenna was about to make a jeering remark to the effect that the
alleged piety of the Dooley family had not penetrated to the Archey
Road representative, when a person, evidently of wayfaring habits,
entered and asked for alms. Mr. Dooley arose, and, picking a
half-dollar from the till, handed it to the visitor with great
unconcern. The departure of the wayfarer with profuse thanks was
followed by a space of silence.
"Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley.
"What did you give the hobo?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"Half a dollar," said Mr. Dooley.
"And what for?"
"Binivolence," said Mr. Dooley, with a seraphic smile.
"Well," said Mr. McKenna, "I should say that was benevolence."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis a bad night out, an' th' poor divvle
looked that miserable it brought th' tears to me eyes, an'"--
"But," said Mr. McKenna, "that ain't any reason why you should give
half a dollar to every tramp who comes in.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74