"I went down to the maskeerade ball."
"I heard you was there. They put you out because you wouldn't take your mask off after 12 o'clock."
"But I didn't have any mask on. It waz me own face."
"That's what I tould them," says Levi, "but they wouldn't belave me."
This raises a laugh. Solomon looks for a moment with astonishment at Levi, then thumps his cane against the floor in an angry manner, and walks in a circle around the stage as if terribly disgusted at having allowed himself to be sold. This look, cane-thumping and walk-around are stereotyped Hibernianisms, and are introduced at the end of each "sell." As Solomon O'Toole gets sold all the time this end of the business is as exclusively his as if he had a patent on it.
"I went into a salune this mornin'," said Solomon, "to git a glass av beer. I got me beer, ped foive sints, and waz jist goin' to blow the foam off it when somebody cries out, 'Foight!' I laid down me beer an' run out the dure to see where the foight waz, but there was no foight. Whin I got back me beer waz gone. I called for another glass an' waz goin' to dhrink it down, when somebody shouts, 'Foire!' Now I wanted to see the foire an' I didn't want to lose me beer, so I pulls out a bit av pincil an' paper an' wroites on it, 'I have shpit in this beer.' When I puts the paper on tap av the beer an' wint out to see the foire. There was no foire, an' what do you think happin'd whin I got back?"
"Your beer waz gone," said Levi.
"No it wazn't," Solomon interposed. "The beer waz there an' the bit av paper waz on tap av it, but some sucker had wrote roight ander my wroitin', 'So hev I.'"
The conclusion of the story is of course greeted with laughter.
"Here, Solomon," says Levi, "I want to make you a prisent."