"Dooley," said I, "your cousin Roop, as you call him, is very glad to
meet you, whatever your politics or your religion."
"Mosht people are," said he, dryly.
"That shows good taste," said I. "But how about your book? It has been
accepted on the strength of its illustrations, you say. How about them?
Can we see them anywhere? Are they on exhibition?"
"You can not only see thim, but you can drink 'em free anny time you
come out to Archie Road," Dooley replied, cordially.
"Drink--a picture?" I asked.
[Illustration: "'KAPE YOUR HOOSBAND HOME'"]
"Yis," said Dooley. "Didn't ye iver hear iv dhrinkin' in a picture,
Cousin Roopert? Didn't ye hear th' tark about th' 'Angelus' whin 'twas
here? Ye cud hear th' bells ringin' troo th' paint iv it. Ye cud almost
hear th' couple in front just back iv th' varnish quar'lin as t'whether
'twas th' Angelus er the facthery bell that was goin' off. 'Twas big
an' little felt th' inflooance iv Misther Miller's jaynius, just be
lukin' at ut--though as fer me, th' fir-rst time I see the t'ing I says,
says I, 'Is ut lukin' for bait to go fishin' with they are?' I says.
'Can't ye hear the pealin' iv the bells?' says Hennessey, who was with
me. 'That an' more,' I says. 'I can hear the pealin' o' th' petayties,'
I says. 'Do ye dhrink in th' feelin' iv it?' says Hennessey. 'Naw, t'ank
ye,' I says. 'I'm not thirsty,' I says. 'Besides, I've swore off
dhrinkin' ile-paintin's,' I says. 'Wathercoolers is gud enough fer me,'
I says. An' wid that we wint back to the Road. But that was th' fir-rst
time I iver heard iv dhrinkin' a work iv ar-rt."
"But some of the things you--ah--you Americans drink," put in Dolly,
"are works of art, my dear Mr. Dooley. Your cousin Rupert gave me a
cocktail at dinner last night--"
"Ye've hit ut, Miss Dooley," returned the philosopher, with a beautiful
enthusiasm. "Ye've hit ut square. I see now y're a thrue Dooley. An'
wid yer kind permission I'll dedicate me book to ye. Ut's cocktails that
book's about, ma'am. _Fifty Cocktails I Have Met_ is th' na-ame iv ut.
An' whin I submitted th' mannyscrip' wid th' illusthrations to the
publisher, he dhrank 'em all, an' he says, 'Dooley,' he says, 'ut's a
go. I'll do yer book,' he says, 'an' I'll pay ye wan hoondred an'
siventy-five per cent.,' he says. 'Set 'em up again, Dooley,' he says;
an' I mixed 'em. 'I t'ink, Dooley,' he says, afther goin' troo th'
illusthrations th' second toime--'I t'ink,' he says, 'ye'd ought to get
two hoondred an' wan per cent. on th' retail price iv th' book,' he
says. 'Can't I take a bottle iv these illusthrations to me office?' he
says. 'I'd like to look 'em over,' he says; an' I mixed 'im up a quar-rt
iv th' illusthrations to th' chapther on th' Mar-rtinney, an' sent him
back to his partner in th' ambylanch."
[Illustration: MIXING ILLUSTRATIONS]
"I shall look forward to the publication of your book with much
interest, Mr. Dooley," said Dolly. "Now that I have discovered our
cousinship, I am even more interested in you than I was before; and let
me tell you that, before I met you, I thought of you as the most vital
figure in American humor that has been produced in many years."
"I know nothin' iv American humor," said Dooley, "for I haven't met anny
lately, an' I know nothin' iv victuals save what I ate, an' me appytite
is as satisfoid wid itself as Hobson is wid th' kisses brawt onto him by
th' sinkin' iv th' Merrimickinley. But for you an' Misther Rassendyll,
ma'am, I've nothin' but good wishes an' ah--illusthrations to me book
whenever ye give yer orders. Kape your hoosband home, Miss Dooley," he
added. "He's scrapped wanst too often already wi' th' Ruraltarriers, an'
he's been killed off wanst by Mr. Ant'ny Hawp; but he'll niver die if ye
only kape him home. If he goes out he'll git fightin' agin. If he
attimpts a sayquil to the sayquil, he's dead sure enough!"
And with this Dolly and Dooley parted.
For myself, Rupert Rassendyll, I think Dooley's advice was good, and as
long as Dolly will keep me home, I'll stay. For is it not better to be
the happy husband of Dolly of the Dialogues, than to be going about like
a knight of the Middle Ages clad in the evening dress of the nineteenth
century, doing impossible things?
As for Dooley's impression of Dolly, I can only quote what I heard he
had said after meeting her.
"She's a Dooley sure," said he, being novel to compliment. And I am glad
she is, for despite the charms of Flavia of pleasant memory, there's
nobody like Dolly for me, and if Dolly can only be acknowledged by the
Dooleys, her fame, I am absolutely confident, is assured.