“So in he comes, and stands, holdin' his shiny beaver in his hand, while I tore open the telegram envelope. 'Twas a message from a feller I knew with the Clyde Line of steamboats. He had found out, somehow, that we was in New York, and the telegram was an order for us to come and make him a visit. “'I hope it's not bad news, sor,' says the big chap. “'No, no,' says I. 'Not a bit of it, Mr. Dempsey. Come on in and have a cigar, won't you?' “'Thank you, sor,' says he. 'I'm glad it's not the bad news. Sure, I ax you and your friend's pardon for bein' so short to yez this mornin', but I'm in that throuble lately that me timper is all but gone.' “'That so?' says I. 'Trouble's thick in this world, ain't it? Me and Mr. Phinney got a case of trouble on our hands now, Mr. Dempsey, and--' “'Excuse me, sor,' he says. 'My name's not Dempsey. I suppose you seen the sign with me partner's name on it. I only bought into the business a while ago, and the new sign's not ready yit. Me name is O'Shaughnessy, sor.' “'What?' says I. And then: 'WHAT?' “'O'Shaughnessy. Michael O'Shaughnessy. I--' “'Hold on!' I sung out. 'For the land sakes, hold on! WHAT'S your name?' “He bristled up like a cat. “'Michael O'Shaughnessy,' he roars, like the bull of Bashan. 'D'yez find any fault with it? 'Twas me father's before me--Michael Patrick O'Shaughnessy, of County Sligo. I'll have yez know--WHAT'S THAT?' “'Twas a scream from the libr'ry. Next thing I knew, Margaret, the nurse girl, was standin' in the hall, white as a Sunday shirt, and swingin' back and forth like a wild-carrot stalk in a gale. “'Mike!' says she, kind of low and faint. 'Mary be good to us! MIKE!' “And the big chap dropped his tall hat on the floor and turned as white as she was. “'MAGGIE!' he hollers. And then they closed in on one another. “Sim and the priest and Archie had followed the girl into the hall. Me and Phinney was too flabbergasted to do anything, but big Father McGrath was cool as an ice box. When Archibald, like the little imp he was, sets up a whoop and dives for them two, the priest grabs him by the rope of the blanket nighty and swings him into the libr'ry, and shuts the door on him. “'And now,' says he, takin' Sim and me by the arms and leadin' us to the parlor, 'we'll just step in here and wait a bit.' “We waited, maybe, ten minutes. Archibald, dear, shut up in the libr'ry, was howlin' blue murder, but nobody paid any attention to him. Then there was a knock on the door between us and the hall, and Father McGrath opened it. There they was, the two of 'em--Mike and Maggie--lookin' red and foolish--but happy, don't talk!