第56章 CHAPTER XI IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS(2)

"I don't believe I ever wanted to make a feller's acquaintance more than I done that O'Shaughnessy man's. The mean blackguard, to leave his girl that way. And 'twas easy to see what she'd been through with Cousin Harriet and that brat. We tried to comfort her all we could; promised to have a hunt through Long Island and the directory, and to help get her another place when she got back from the South, and so on. But 'twas kind of unsatisfactory. 'Twas her Mike she wanted.

"'I told the Father about it at the church up there,' she says, 'and he wrote, but the letters was lost, I guess. And I thought if I might see a priest here in New York he might help me. But the mistress is to go at noon to-morrer, and I'll have no time. What SHALL I do?' says she, and commenced to cry again.

"Then I had an idea. 'Priest?' says I. 'There's a fine big church, with a cross on the ridgepole of it, not five minutes' walk from this house. I see it as we was comin' up. Why don't you run down there this minute?' I says.

"No, she didn't want to leave Archibald. Suppose he should wake up.

"'All right,' says I. 'Then I'll go myself. And I'll fetch a priest up here if I have to tote him on my back, like the feller does the codfish in the advertisin' picture.'

"I didn't have to tote him. He lived in a mighty fine house, hitched onto the church, and there was half a dozen assistant parsons to help him do his preachin'. But he was big and fat and gray-haired and as jolly and as kind-hearted a feller as you'd want to meet. He said he'd come right along; and he done it.

"Phinney opened the door for us. 'What's the row?' says I, lookin' at his face.

"'Row?' he snorts; 'there's row enough for six. That da--excuse me, mister--that cussed Archibald has woke up.'

"He had; there wa'n't no doubt about it. And he was raisin' hob, too. The candy, mixed up with the dinner, had put his works in line with his disposition, and he was poundin' and yellin' upstairs enough to wake the dead. Margaret leaned over the balusters.

"'Is it the Father?' she says. 'Oh, dear! what'll I do?'

"'Send some of the other servants to the boy,' says the priest, 'and come down yourself.'

"Simeon, lookin' kind of foolish, explained what had become of the other servants. Father McGrath--that was his name--laughed and shook all over.

"'Very well,' says he. 'Then bring the young man down. Perhaps he'll be quiet here.'

"So pretty soon down come Margaret with Archibald, full of the Old Scratch, as usual, dressed up gay in a kind of red blanket nighty, with a rope around the middle of it. The young one spotted Simeon, and set up a whoop.

"'Oh! there's the funny whiskers,' he sings out.

"'Good evenin', my son,' says the priest.

"'Who's the fat man?' remarks Archibald, sociable. 'I never saw such a red fat man. What makes him so red and fat?'

"These questions didn't make Father McGrath any paler. He laughed, of course, but not as if 'twas the funniest thing he ever heard.

"'So you think I'm fat, do you, my boy?' says he.

"'Yes, I do,' says Archibald. 'Fat and red and funny. Most as funny as the whisker man. I never saw such funny-lookin' people.'

"He commenced to point and holler and laugh. Poor Margaret was so shocked and mortified she didn't know what to do.

"'Stop your noise, sonny,' says I. 'This gentleman wants to talk to your nurse.'

"The answer I got was some unexpected.

"'What makes your feet so big?' says Archie, pointin' at my Sunday boots. 'Why do you wear shoes like that? Can't you help it?

You're funny, too, aren't you? You're funnier than the rest of 'em.'

"We all went into the library then, and Father McGrath tried to ask Margaret some questions. I'd told him the heft of the yarn on the way from the church, and he was interested. But the questionin' was mighty unsatisfyin'. Archibald was the whole team, and the rest of us was yeller dogs under the wagon.

"'Can't you keep that child quiet?' asks the priest, at last, losin' his temper and speakin' pretty sharp.

"'O Archie, dear! DO be a nice boy,' begs Margaret, for the eight hundredth time.

"'Why don't you punish him as he deserves?'

"'Father, dear, I can't. The mistress says he's so sensitive that he has to have his own way. I'd lose my place if I laid a hand on him.'

"'Come on into the parlor and see the pictures, Archie,' says I.

"'I won't,' says Archibald. 'I'm goin' to stay here and see the fat man make faces.'

"'You see,' says Sim, apologizin' 'we can't touch him, 'cause we promised his ma not to interfere. And my right hand's got cramps in the palm of it this minute,' he adds, glarin' at the young one.

"Father McGrath stood up and reached for his hat. Margaret began to cry. Archibald, dear, whooped and kicked the furniture. And just then the front-door bell rang.

"For a minute I thought 'twas Cousin Harriet and the Holdens come back, but then I knew it was hours too early for that. Margaret was too much upset to be fit for company, so I answered the bell myself. And who in the world should be standin' on the steps but that big Dempsey man, the boss of the Golconda House, where me and Simeon had been stayin'; the feller we'd spoke to that very mornin'.

"'Good evenin', sor,' says he, in a voice as deep as a well. 'I'm glad to find you to home, sor. There's a telegram come for you at my place,' he says, 'and as your friend lift the address when he come for the baggage this afternoon, I brought it along to yez. I was comin' this way, so 'twas no trouble.'

"'That's real kind of you,' I says. 'Step inside a minute, won't you?'

"So in he comes, and stands, holdin' his shiny beaver in his hand, while I tore open the telegram envelope. 'Twas a message from a feller I knew with the Clyde Line of steamboats. He had found out, somehow, that we was in New York, and the telegram was an order for us to come and make him a visit.

"'I hope it's not bad news, sor,' says the big chap.

"'No, no,' says I. 'Not a bit of it, Mr. Dempsey. Come on in and have a cigar, won't you?'

"'Thank you, sor,' says he. 'I'm glad it's not the bad news.