Artists -- Relations with women -- Fiction; Artists -- United States -- Fiction
Eugene laughed. "Sure," he said. Deegan was down in a freshly excavated
hole and his clothes were redolent of the freshly turned earth which
surrounded him. He had a plumb bob in his hand and a spirit level, but
he laid them down. Under the neat train shed to which he crawled when
Eugene appeared and where they stood, he fished from a pocket of his old
gray coat a soiled and crumpled letter which he carefully unfolded with
his thick and clumsy fingers. Then he held it up and looked at it
defiantly.
"I want ye to go to Woodlawn," he continued, "and look after some bolts
that arre theyer--there's a keg av thim--an' sign the bill fer thim, an'
ship thim down to me. They're not miny. An' thin I waant ye to go down
to the ahffice an' take thim this O. K." And here he fished around and
produced another crumpled slip. "It's nonsinse!" he exclaimed, when he
saw it. "It's onraisonable! They're aalways yillen fer thim
O. K. blanks. Ye'd think, begad, I was goin' to steal thim from thim.
Ye'd think I lived on thim things. O. K. blanks, O. K. blanks. From
mornin' 'til night O. K. blanks. It's nonsinse! It's onraisonable!"
And his face flushed a defiant red.
Eugene could see that some infraction of the railroad's rules had
occurred and that Deegan had been "called down," or "jacked up" about
it, as the railroad men expressed it. He was in a high state of
dudgeon--as defiant and pugnacious as his royal Irish temper would
allow.
"I'll fix it," said Eugene. "That's all right. Leave it to me."
Deegan showed some signs of approaching relief. At last he had a man of
"intilligence," as he would have expressed it. He flung a parting shot
though at his superior as Eugene departed.
"Tell thim I'll sign fer thim when I git thim and naat before!" he
rumbled.
Eugene laughed. He knew no such message would be accepted, but he was
glad to give Deegan an opportunity to blow off steam. He entered upon
his new tasks with vim, pleased with the out-of-doors, the sunshine, the
opportunity for brief trips up and down the road like this. It was
delightful. He would soon be all right now, that he knew.
He went to Woodlawn and signed for the bolts; went to the office and met
the chief clerk (delivering the desired O. K. blanks in person) who
informed him of the chief difficulty in Deegan's life. It appeared that
there were some twenty-five of these reports to be made out monthly, to
say nothing of endless O. K. blanks to be filled in with acknowledgments
of material received. Everything had to be signed for in this way,
it mattered not whether it was a section of a bridge or a single bolt
or a pound of putty. If a man could sit down and reel off a graphic report
of what he was doing, he was the pride of the chief clerk's heart. His
doing the work properly was taken as a matter of course. Deegan was not
efficient at this, though he was assisted at times by his wife and all
three of his children, a boy and two girls. He was constantly in hot
water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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