If it had been hot elsewhere,
what had it been in Archey Road? The street-car horses reeled in the
dust from the tracks. The drivers, leaning over the dash-boards,
flogged the brutes with the viciousness of weakness. The piles of coke
in the gas-house yards sent up waves of heat like smoke. Even the
little girls playing on the sidewalks were flaming pink in color. But
the night saw Archey Road out in all gayety, its flannel shirt open at
the breast to the cooling blast and the cries of its children filling
the air. It also saw Mr. Dooley luxuriating like a polar bear, and
bowing cordially to all who passed.
"Glory be to th' saints," he said, "but it's been a thryin' five days.
I've been mean enough to commit murdher without th' strength even to
kill a fly. I expect to have a fight on me hands; f'r I've insulted
half th' road, an' th' on'y thing that saved me was that no wan was
sthrong enough to come over th' bar. 'I cud lick ye f'r that, if it
was not so hot,' said Dorsey, whin I told him I'd change no bill f'r
him. 'Ye cud not,' says I, 'if 'twas cooler,' I says.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149