“Enough,” said Pat. “There’s meself, Paddy Murphy, a man that came over from Ireland, a man looking for work, a man with a wife and six children, an’ a Tipperary man, too.” By this time they had fled.
“Well,” said the doctor to Pat, “did that cure for deafness really help your brother?”
“Arrah, sure enough,” said Pat. “He hadn’t heard a sound for years, and the day after he took that medicine he heard from a friend in America.”
She was a sweet little thing with the most waspy of wasplike waists, and passers-by had nothing but admiration in their eyes for her.
But what was that? She had fainted. Tenderly they carried her into a drug store. An Irishman who had observed the occurrence, looked in after a few minutes, and inquired:
“How is she now?”
“Oh,” was the reply, “she’s coming to.”