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and blanked off the music, but down in the but it did, and I drew back me hammerdock we kept on hammerin' and sweathin' and had I hit him 'twould have killed him. and cursin', every man av us feelin' like a God saved me fr’m that. He stepped forsore toe from weariness, sleepiness, and ward to look at the rivet, and he sthumbled sthrain.

and fell to the floor av the dock, twilve feet "And thin Misther Munn came down in below, and he hit on his head and wint the dock in his slick, shiny oil-skins; and, sinseless. 'fore God, McKinnon should have chloro- “'Twas I mesilf that picked him up—I formed or tied him up to a wall.

really like the bhoy, Em—and Jimmy Jones “That's too long a rivet,' says he, the and I brought him to and dragged him up first thing.

to the surgeon. Thin I came back to the “Do ye think so?' says I, diggin' me job and took a hammer and hammered at toes into the planks and niver movin' to rivets like a crazy man, tryin' to work mesthop it off or change it-and, Em, it was silf away from me thoughts. At six mintoo long, the bhoy knows siviral things; but utes past two we drove the last rivet, and we were in a hurry, a hell av a hurry. the caulkers were so close behind that they "Tek it out,' sez he.

finished nine minutes later, be the watch. “Aw, to hell with ye,' sez I, and I was And I tell ye, Em, the last clank of caulking goin' to hit him with a rivet hammer- tool was music." s' help me, 'twas so, and me with twinty- “Did McKinnon come down ?" asked eight years av Navy Yard service. I don't Mr. Knott. know how the thing came into me mind, “He did.

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“I'll go see him this minute, and tell him ... that I sphoke like a crazy man ...”-Page 363.

“We'll go over the job together,' says “Then why, in the name of Gawd, he; so he dragged his white vest and his aren't we at war?” asked Mr. Knott. paunch through ivery intricate chink in the “I don't know mesilf. They called it off peak av the ship—and his paunch is no some way and whether it was to have been slouch these last years.

a shindy with England, Germany, Russia, "''Tis a pity about Mr. Munn,' says he, or Japan, I'll niver tell ye. Maybe the squeezin' through a manhole designed f'r a bets was not posthed—now the Penobscot's dwarf.

gone off to a flower show." “It is that,' said I, but to mesilf I “And your trouble, I don't see it." thanked God that he'd fallen instead av "'Tis plain ye're not posthed in disbein' pushed by me. But at the same time cipline, Em. Can a man recommind his I was wonderin' when I'd be fired for in- boss to the divil with impunity? Not so. subordination—I hate the word, Em. I'm to be discharged—I'd do it mesilf.

"The job is O.K.,'says Misther McKin- Now this is the first mornin' since thin that non, 'and 'tis a comfort to finish it.' Thin I've been on the job—I hope that bhoy, he bawled: 'Bergstrohm, open the valves Misther Munn, is doin' well—that bhoy and haul out the stagin'; the Penobscot was a wonder at rusthlin' stheel plates, God goes out at daylight.' And Bergstrohm knows fwhere he got 'em—but he's no idea from way up on the coping says: “Aye, aye, how an iron worker feels. McKinnon sir,' and Mr. McKinnon turns to the iron would niver have complained of long rivets workers and says: ‘Min, go home and that night, not-hup! there's me tiliphone." sthay till ye are risted; 'tis a good job av Then to the telephone: “Yis, sor; Mr. work'—and we trailed off through the Weems—very good, sor, I'll wait.” rain."

“Em, douse the seegar; Misther McKin“And did the Penobscot come out?" non's comin' in on his way to the power

"Av course she did. There's no man so house—throw the butt out av the door;sure as McKinnon. He sthood on the yis, go yersilf, too, through the same door, dock for three hours in the rain, and she I'll forgive ye yer absince come back in came out just at daylight.”

half an hour and I'll commission ye to buy

me an orchard in Yakima. I'm tired av away, leaves to-night. He said you and he iron workin', and 'tis no wonder.” had-ah-some misunderstanding in the

Mr. Knott departed. Mr. Weems fum- dock the other night, just before he fell bled nervously over his desk, then he rose but he says it was private, and declines to as a tall, thick-chested man with a paunch make a report-ah, why not go see him? entered. He was a bearded, thoughtful, He would appreciate it-ah, why not go?” almost spiritual-looking man, and he wore Mr. Weems rose in excited admiration. habitually an abstracted air. He moved “Ah, he's a fine lad. He's goin' to be a very quietly.

great man, too-yes, sir, he is that. I'll go "Mr. Weems, I'm glad to see you back see him this minute, and tell him, as I tell on the job. You look fit too. Men all ye, that I shpoke like a crazy man the right?”

other night—I hope I'll work under him an"Perfectly sound, ivery man.”

other time-he'll learn-no, sir, not learn "Ah-good.” He then went toward the -he knows already-how an iron worker door and spoke over his shoulder as he feels.” departed.

. But Mr. McKinnon had gone on to the * Ah-Weeńs, Mr. Munn is ordered power plant.

A SADDLE SONG
By Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

Long years from now when the autumn weather

Shall tingle our blood, grown slow and cold,
I think that the rides we have had together

Will still delight us, though gray and old.

Then perhaps on a day you will open the covers

Of some small book, and a hazard line
That tells of the rides of friends or lovers

Will sing of the rides that were yours and mine.

Again, while the sharp rain cuts without pity,

We'll gallop; again from the distant hill
We'll watch the stars and the lights of the city

Gleam out of the twilight, misty and still;

Again to the creak of saddle-leather

We'll climb the slope where the violets grow;
Or, low to the pommels, dash together

Under the apple-blossom snow.

Then here's good luck to the rollicking chorus

Of a horse's hoofs as they beat the ground,
And may there be many a mile before us

When our hearts shall keep time to the musical sound.

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KENNEDY SQUARE

BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH

ILLUSTRATION BY A. I. KELLER

XXVIII

head up, her face turned frankly toward

him, one hand extended in welcome. TEN let him in.

“Uncle George told me you were back, He came as an appari- Harry. It was very good of you to come,” tion, and the old butler and sank on the sofa. balanced the door in his It had been but a few steps to him—the hand for a moment, as if space between the open door and the hearth

undecided what to do, try- rug on which he stood-and it had taken ing all the while to account for the change her but a few seconds to cross it, but in in the young man's appearance—the width that brief interval the heavens had opened of shoulders, the rough clothes, and the de- above her. termined glance of his eye.

The old Harry was there—the smile“Fo' Gawd, it's Marse Harry!" was all the flash in the eyes—the joy of seeing her he said when he could get his mouth open. —the quick movement of his hand in gra

“Yes, Ben-go and tell your mistress I cious salute; then there had followed a sense am here," and he brushed past him and of his strength, of the calm poise of his pushed back the drawing-room door. Once body, of the clearness of his skin. How inside he crossed to the mantel and stood much handsomer he was,—and the rough with his back to the hearth, his sailor's cap sailor's clothes—how well they fitted his in his hand, his eyes fixed on the door he had robust frame; and the clear calm eyes and just closed behind him; through it would finely cut features-no shrinking from recome the beginning or the end of his life. sponsibility in that face; no faltering—the Ben's noiseless entrance and exit a moment old ideal of her early love and the new after, and his repetition of his mistress's ideal of her sailor boy—the one Richard's words, neither raised nor depressed his voice had conjured-welded into one perhopes. He knew she would not refuse to sonality! see him—what would come after was the “Uncle George told me, Kate, you had wall that loomed up.

just been in to see him and I tried to overShe had not hesitated, nor did she keep take you.” him waiting. Her eyes were still red with Not much: nothing in fact. Playwriters weeping, her hair partly dishevelled, when tell us that the dramatic situation is the Ben found her and told her who was down- thing and that the spoken word is as unimstairs—but she did not seem to care. Nor portant to the play as the foot-lights-exwas she frightened-nor eager. She just cept as a means of illuminating the situalifted her cheek from Mammy Henny's tion. caressing hand-how many times had that “Yes, I have just left him, Harry. Unsame black hand soothed her-pushed cle George looks very badly-don't you back the hair from her face with a move- think so? Is there anything very serious ment as if she was trying to collect her the matter? I sent Ben to Dr. Teackle's, thoughts, and without rising from her knees but he was not in his office." heard Ben's message to the end. Then she Harry had moved up a chair and sat deanswered calmly:

vouring every vibration of her lips, every “Did you say Mr. Harry Rutter, Ben? glance of her eyes—all the little movements Tell him I'll be down in a moment." of her beautiful body-her dress—the way

the stray strands of hair had escaped to her She entered with that same graceful shoulders. His Kate!-and yet he dare movement which he loved so well—her not touch her!

VOL. L.-35

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