Mrs. Nolan, a market basket upon her arm, came down the street with staggering step. Dick had entrusted her with money enough to go marketing and it had gone for drink; she was muttering to herself and gesticulating drunkenly, and as she caught sight of the pair by the curb, she halted:
“Ah!” cried she. “Is it spharkin’ be the gutter yez’ed be doin’, jewels? Have ye no home till go till, Bella, that yez must stan’ on the strate!”
“Oh, go home!” cried Bella, scarlet with shame, “everybody’s lookin’ at you!”
“Divil a hair do I care. Sure, an’ haven’t I the roight till take a sup av drink iv I have the price? It’s not long yez father ’ud be in biz’ness,” she added to Martin, “iv it wurn’t for the loikes av me.”
The young man growled out an oath. He saw McGonagle looking at him through Riley’s window, and Riley, himself, with a grin upon his face. A Saturday night crowd filled Second Street; many that knew him stopped and looked and laughed; on the opposite corner, in front of Kerrigan’s saloon and under the glare of an arc lamp, a crowd of loungers were enjoying the sight; Officer Hogan was slyly pointing at him with his club, and saying something to the bartender who stood in the doorway.
“And is me poor home not good enough for yez,” went on Mrs. Nolan with increased pitch, “that yez do be kapin’ me daughter stan’in’ in the strate till be talked about. Divil a better had yez father till he tuk to sellin’ the drop. Lave go av me arm Bella; I’ll go home whin I plaze!”
“Ye’ll go home now!” said her son, pushing his way through the crowd which had collected. “For God’s sake,” as she began struggling, “don’t make a show of yourself! T’ink of the neighbours!”
“May the divil fly away wid the neighbours! What call have I till be afeerd av thim?”
“Come on, Mom,” urged Bella, almost in tears, “if ye go on this way, I’ll never show me face outside the door again!”
“Ye promised to do right,” said Dick, with white face, “and ye’ll never get another cent o’ my money in yer hands as long as ye live!”