He entered Clancy’s and found the grocer alone, seated astride a crate, sorting eggs.
“The top av the mornin’ till yez, Clancy,” said O’Hara, politely.
“The same till yezsilf,” responded Clancy. “Sure, an’ it’s glad till see yez I am, this foine mornin’.” Then under his breath he added: “God forgi’me for the lie I’m tellin’.”
“I’ve jist luked in till ask if yez have the troifle av money that’s due me,” said O’Hara.
“I have not the price av a can av beer in the house. Faix an’ I’ve jist paid me butter man who shud have had his money last Chuesday, an’ it’s claned out I am, entirely.”
“An’ might I ax yez, Mister Clancy, what’s till become av me?”
“Scure till the wan av me knows. Can’t ye extind the time?”
“Divil raysave the day!” And O’Hara turned abruptly toward the door. “Mister Clancy, I will have me money, principal an’ intrust, or I will sell yez out!” He paused upon the threshold. “Iv ye are not at me store t’morry at twelve be the day, I will have Haggerty, the constable, down on yez. Mister Clancy, good day till yez, sir!” And he slammed the door behind him.
“An’ the divil go wid ye,” exclaimed Clancy, savagely, as he resumed his work upon the crate of eggs.
“Ain’t ye goin’ to church this mornin’, Pop?” called Annie, from an inner room.