And I did; I couldn't refuse it. That's like the Irish; they're so hearty and will share your last cent.
There's one bright Irishman that I'm greatly interested in. Terence Sullivan came over here with the idea that he could pick up money in the streets; and sure enough the first day he landed he found a nice new ten-dollar bill on one of the seats in Battery Park. Since then he's gone on doing well.
Sullivan was never much of a reader, and I had often wondered at this until on a certain occasion he gave his prejudice an airing.
"And faith," said he, "Oi don't see the since in noospapers. They kin only print what's already happened."
As affairs prospered with the honest fellow, like all true-hearted Irishmen, he must needs send for the mother, and install her in a comfortable home.
I remember meeting the old lady once, and under conditions that often make me smile.
I had a friend, a lawyer, who had an office away up in one of the skyscrapers downtown, and here Mrs. Sullivan, after much persuasion, had been induced to come and pay her rent.
The lawyer's office was on one of the upper floors of a large office building.
After the rent had been paid and the receipt given, the old woman was shown out into the hallway by the office boy.