Middletown transcript., 1914-11-21
sunarfora

oombs+ be Turkey.
has few equals and no superfors.
And ere Mr.. Dorsey, too weak even
to wag a threatening finger, and Mr..
Cassidy, too tired to call Mr.. Dorsey
the names that were congesting In his
being, retired to their respective
abodes to think up things to say to
one another on the morrow, old Mrs.
Honoria Slattery, who lived farther up
on the rocks, already was removing
the last pin feather from the turkey
with piece Of fiaring wrapping pa
per.
One year later, to a day, Mr.. Dor
sey, glowering at Mr.. Cassidy, and Mr..
Cassidy, glowering at Mr.. Dorsey, be-
took themselves down to the express
Office, each to get the Grated turkey
that his son had sent him for his
Thanksgiving dinner.
Side by side, in armed neutrality
they waited for the agent to finish
discoursing to the pretty operator
upon the benefits of love to the work
ing man and how the stimulus Of hav-
ing good woman to work. for brings
out all there is best in the male be-
ing.
Mr.. Dorsey and Mr.. Cassidy waxed
impatient.
They had come for turkeys, not for
dissertations; and this one was partic-
ularly annoying because they had both
been married.
At length, when the agent had
wrought himself into a verbal frenzy
in an attempt to clinch the point that
two can live as cheaply as one, Mr..
Dorsey interrupted.
1.-TWO can live as chape as wan If
they'll live on half as much" he burst
forth, "an' now gi'me me turkey"
The agent turned in cold hauteur.
"They's one out on the platform in
crate" he returned, frigidly. 'The
names rubbed OF, so I don't know
who 1t belongs to-"
''It's mine," said Mr.. Dorsey.
''Ye're a liar" said Mr. Cassidy.
"HTwas on'y Yesterday me son Moike
writ me tellin' me he'd STINT me wan,"
howled Mr.. Cassidy. "oi hov tn let
ther!"
"Oh, no, you hov, hov yOu!" yelled
Mr.. Dorsey. well. yez couldn't read
it, anyhow, so phwat's tn difference?"
Mr.. Cassidy throbbed with anger.
"Oi1l Farm ye phwat tn difference
isl" he howled. He took of his coat,
cast It to the, floor and, STOPPING,
rubbed the palms Of his hands in the
dirt. Dorsey, the Joy of battle in his
little eyes, was not whit behind.
And then there entered Lieutenant
Dalrymple Of the Salvation army. He
was a little man, with a pimply face
and chest like a washboard. But he
valiantly pushed in where would have
feared to tread the most fatuous and
blindest angel that ever flew.
"Hold!" he cried, extending spin
ding arms.
Mr.. Dorsey eyed him truculently.
"Gowan!' he yelled, threateningly.
fPhwat's tn matther wild ye? D. ye
wan ter git kilt? Git out O. me wa-ay!"
and he rushed at Mr.. Cassidy.
Lieutenant Dalrymple, the peace.
maker, with extended hands, stepped
between. One befingered fist caught
Mr.. Dorsey in the eye, while the other
enreshed itself in Mr.. Cassidy's Glen
garrys.
1t was well for Lieutenant Dalrym-
pie that he was a good runner. The
half mile to headquarters he covered
in two minutes fat, and he spent the
rest of the morning in a Saratoga
trunk in the garret, while the rest of
the army endeavored to eject from the
building the raging Mr.. Dorsey and
the trumpeting Mr.. Cassidy.
1t was an election long and hard
fought But it was an election.
Sitting side by side in the street, Mr..
Dorsey timorously wiggled back and
forth a loose tooth, while Mr.. Cassidy
tenderly caressed a fast blackening
eye.
"Matchew." said Mr.. Cassidy at
length.
Mr.. Dorsey removed his fingers from
his mouth.
"Phwat is ut?" he queried.
Lave US go home an ate our tur-
rkey," said Mr.. Cassidy.
Mr.. Dorsey nodded profoundly.
'Yis," he said. AN whin we've I'm
ished-'twill be da-ark by thin-we'u
COON back an lay fr thOt Salvashun
ARMY diVvle. be hivvins! s!"-PennsyL
vania Grit.
Much to Be Thankful For.