“Dod vas a good von, Cherry,” muttered he. “You hid him hardt, ain’t id?”
Burns, who was gazing through the window, suddenly uttered an exclamation, rushed into the street and buttonholed a young man who was passing.
“Is that not Dick Nolan, Jerry?” asked Clancy tieing his four-in-hand before the mirror over the wash-stand.
“Yes,” answered Jerry. “I guess Tim’s hittin’ him for a job.”
“Be the powers! the crayture nades the bit av wurk. The good woife an’ two childer’ mus’ find it hard; an’ Tim’s a study, sober felly.”
In a few minutes Tim returned; his face had a brighter look and he was lilting an old country air.
“I go till wurk in the mornin’,” said he with a rapturous smile. “Young Nolan is a man av his wurd; he promised me a job at the first chance, an’ now he have give me wan. McQuirk an’ his political bums kin go till the devil, for me!”
“Good luck, lad,” wished the grocer. “Gartenheim is the man for yez till stick till.”
“He have the contract for layin’ the sewer above, at Frankford,” went on Burns; “an’ he’ll start till open the strate t’morry.”
“Nolan’s a good guy,” commented Jerry.