“This was not th' place f'r a polisman,” said Mr. Dooley. “I suspict though, fr'm me knowledge iv th' kind iv man that uses firear-rms that if some wan'd had th' prisence iv mind to sing out 'They'se a man at th' bar that offers to buy dhrinks f'r th' crowd,' they'd be less casu'lties fr'm bullets, though they might be enough people kilt in th' r-rush to even it up. But whin I read about these social affairs in Kentucky, I sometimes wish some spool cotton salesman fr'm Matsachoosets, who'd be sure to get kilt whin th' shootin' begun, wud go down there with a baseball bat an' begin tappin' th' gallant gintlemen on th' head befure breakfast an' in silf definse. I'll bet ye he'd have thim jumpin' through thransoms in less thin two minyits, f'r ye can put this down as thrue fr'm wan that's seen manny a shootin', that a man, barrin' he's a polisman, on'y dhraws a gun whin he's dhrunk or afraid. Th' gun fighter, Hinnissy, tin to wan is a cow'rd.”
“That's so,” said Mr. Hennessy. “But it don't do to take anny chances on.”
“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “he might be dhrunk.”
A SOCIETY SCANDAL
“Well, sir, I guess I'm not up on etiket,” said Mr. Dooley.
“How's that?” demanded Mr. Hennessy.
“I've been readin' about Willum Waldorf Asthor,” replied Mr. Dooley, “an' th' throuble he had with a la-ad that bummed his way into his party. Ye see, Hinnissy, Willum Waldorf Asthor give a party at his large an' commodjious house in London. That's where he lives—in London—though he r-runs a hotel in New York, where ye can see half th' state iv Ioway near anny night, they tell me. Well, he give this party on a gran' scale, an' bought gr-reat slathers iv food an' dhrink, an' invited th' neighbors an' the neighbors' childher. But wan man he wudden't have. He's goin' over th' list iv th' people that's to come, an' he says to his sicrety: 'Scratch that boy. Him an' me bump as we pass by.' He didn't want this fellow, ye see, Hinnissy. I don't know why. They was dissatisfaction between thim; annyhow, he says: 'Scratch him,' an' he was out iv it.”
“Well, wan night, th' fellow was settin' down f'r a bite to eat with Lady O——, an' Lady S——, an' Lady G——, an' Lady Y——, an' other ladies that had lost their names, an' says wan iv thim, 'Cap,' she says, 'ar-re ye goin' to Asthor's doin's tonight?' she says. 'Not that I know iv,' says th' Cap. 'He hasn't sint me anny wurrud that I'm wanted,' he says. 'What differ does it make,' says th' lady. 'Write an invitation f'r ye'rsilf on ye'er cuff an' come along with us,' says she. 'I'll do it,' says the Cap, an' he sint f'r an automobile an' goes along.