"Did you draw a prize in the Havana lottery?" asked another.
"Have you been playing policy?" asked a third.
"You're all wrong," said Dick Rafferty. "Frank's been adopted by a rich man upon Madison avenue. Aint that so, Frank?"
"Something like it," said Frank. "There's a gentleman up there who has been very kind to me."
"If he wants to adopt another chap, spake a good word for me," said Patsy Reagan.
"Whisht, Patsy, he don't want no Irish bog-trotter," said Phil Donovan.
"You're Irish yourself, Phil, now, and you can't deny it."
"What if I am? I aint no bog-trotter—I'm the son of an Irish count. You can see by my looks that I belong to the gintry."
"Then the gintry must have red hair and freckles, Phil. There aint no chance for you."
"Tell us all about it, Frank," said Dick. "Shure I'm your best friend, and you might mention my name to the ould gintleman if he's got any more good clothes to give away."