THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"On the level, have you been left some money?"
"Honest as the day is long. Not enough to buy lobsters every night, but enough for my uses. And some day, according to the magazine there, I'm coming back from a long voyage and marry you."
"On your way, Aloysius! I don't look like a girl who would marry for money, do I?"
"If I wasn't afraid the dye 'd leak through this bean of mine, I'd go and have it dyed purple. Say, what's all this noise about red hair, anyhow?"
"Don't ask me. Personally I ain't got anything against it. But I never saw a man with red hair that wasn't always looking for trouble and finding it."
"It's tough to be Irish."
"Irish? Why, I wouldn't have believed it! Well, good luck, and keep away from the bright lights."
"The same to you, only more so;" and William left the shop.
"Hey, Nellie, who's the chrysanthemum?"
"Was that Reginald?"
The object of these kindly attentions held up the half-dollar.
"Did he forget his change?"
"What's his home town—Troy?"
"Aw, you girls make me weary! You can't tell a real man from a tailor's dummy, take it from me, free of charge." Nellie took her gum from under the table. "He may have red hair, but he beats Mike the baggage-man for shoulders."
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