“Wur she not! Faix an’ that’s news till me, so it is.” “I heard me father say,” said Jerry, “that Mary’s grandfather put up the coin to bring old man Murphy over here, and start him in the tea biz. That was a good many moons ago; and when her folks lost all their gilt and she was left alone, old Larry sent to Dublin for her, and he’s took care o’ her ever since.” “Begorra, the owld fox had a heart in his body for all! Bud scure till the wan av me iver give him credit for it. God save uz,” resumed Mr. Burns, after a pause, “what a power av money he made at the tay peddlin’.” “He uster be a great old geezer, didn’t he?” remarked McGonagle. “I kin remember him as plain as day in his old plug hat, an’ he wuz hot after the needful, too.” “There do be a good profit in tay,” put in the grocer, who was now sitting up, having his hair brushed; “but how he iver made all av the property he’s left, be peddlin’ it from dure till dure, gits the better av me.” “He had a head for commerce, sure,” put in O’Hara. “It wur himself that cud lay out a dollar till advantage; an’ divil the bate av him did iver I see for buyin’ chape an’ sellin’ dear.” “He was a winner if he cud beat youse at that game, O’Hara,” laughed McGlory. “Nexd!” cried Schwartz, as Clancy got out of his chair. Malachi took the vacated place, a frown wrinkling his brow. The grocer, thinking of the hard bargain which O’Hara had driven when he had gone to him for money, some time before, winked at Jerry, delighting in the cut; and Schwartz, as he drew some hot water from the copper tank upon the stove into O’Hara’s shaving mug, grinned widely. “Dod vas a good von, Cherry,” muttered he. “You hid him hardt, ain’t id?” Burns, who was gazing through the window, suddenly uttered an exclamation, rushed into the street and buttonholed a young man who was passing. “Is that not Dick Nolan, Jerry?” asked Clancy tieing his four-in-hand before the mirror over the wash-stand. “Yes,” answered Jerry. “I guess Tim’s hittin’ him for a job.” “Be the powers! the crayture nades the bit av wurk. The good woife an’ two childer’ mus’ find it hard; an’ Tim’s a study, sober felly.” In a few minutes Tim returned; his face had a brighter look and he was lilting an old country air. “I go till wurk in the mornin’,” said he with a rapturous smile. “Young Nolan is a man av his wurd; he promised me a job at the first chance, an’ now he have give me wan. McQuirk an’ his political bums kin go till the devil, for me!” “Good luck, lad,” wished the grocer. “Gartenheim is the man for yez till stick till.” “He have the contract for layin’ the sewer above, at Frankford,” went on Burns; “an’ he’ll start till open the strate t’morry.” “Nolan’s a good guy,” commented Jerry. “That’s no joke,” agreed McGonagle. “He’s a real good t’ing.” “It’s a pity,” commented Clancy, “that his mother is so tuck up wid the sup av drink.” “Ay!” said Tim, shaking his head dismally.