“Sure.”
“Well, the divil himself niver witnessed sich a cheek. An’ might I ax what yez have till kape a wife on?”
“Why, I ain’t got much dough,” admitted Goose, ruefully. “But there’s me milk route and—”
“Arrah, go long wid ye! There’s a dale av money in the milk business, Goose, me b’y, bud yez route’ll niver make ye rich. An’ as for Annie, she’ll stay at home, an’ help her mother wid the wurk, as she hav always done. Now don’t be after vexin’ me!” Goose was about to protest; “’twill do ye no good.”
And the grocer went on his way down the street leaving the young man gazing despondently after him. He did not notice the approach of Larry and Kerrigan who had just emerged from Dwyer’s; and Larry slapped him on the back, remarking:
“Yer lookin’ green around the gills. What’s wrong?”
“I’m gittin’ it in the neck, all around,” answered Goose, savagely. “They’re all givin’ me the dinky-dink for further orders. I just now went against Annie’s old man, and he flagged me, cold!”
“Oh, was that Clancy you were speaking to?” asked Kerrigan looking interestedly after the retreating figure. “I’ve got something to tell him, but I’ll see him again. Say, you knew old Miss Cassidy, Annie’s aunt, didn’t you, Goose?”
“Sure,” answered the milkman. “She was me star customer, up till she died the other day.”
“Well, she left a queer kind of a will.” Kerrigan hesitated a moment, and then continued: “Say, I know how it is between you and Annie; walk down the street with us and I’ll tell you about it. It might help you somehow.”