The midland journal., 1914-11-20

has few equals and no superiors.
And ere Mr.. Dorsey. too weak even
to wag 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 aaring wrapping pa.
per.
-
One year later, to 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 bis
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-
LIE 60O4 WOAAdA W WOAh AVA UlAn60
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 b ause they had both
been married.
At length, when the agent had
wrought himself into d verbal frenzy
In an attempt to clinch the point that
two can live as cheaply as one. Mr..
Dorsey interrupted. assf a'tt AZ n, q
Two can live as chape as wan II
they'n live on half as much he burst
forth, AN now gi'me me turkey"
The agent turned In cold halteur.
stThey's one out on the platform In
q crate. he returned. frigidly 'srhe
names rubbed or, so don't know
who it belongs to-
tits miness' said Mr.. Dorsey.
"Ye're a. liar. said Mr.. Cassidy.
Twas on'y Yesterday me SON Moike
writ me tellin' me he'd sint me wan. !"
howled Mr.. Cassidy. "oi hov tn let
ther."
"oh, ho, you hoy. hoy you!" yelled
Mr.. Dorsey. Wen. yez couldn't read
it, anyhow. 80 phwat's tn difrerence2"
Mr.. Cassidy throbbed with anger.
"Of1l rarn We phwat tn difference
isl" he howled. He took or 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 . little man. with pimply face
and chest like washboard. But he
yaliantly 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 tFuculentiy.
"Gowan., he yelled. threateningiy.
"Phwat's tn matther wild We? 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 befngered tlst caught
Mr.. Dorsey IN the eye. while the other
enneshed itself in Mr.. Cassidy's Glen
garrys.
It was well for Lieutenant Dalrym-
pie that he was good run0er. The
half mile to headquarters he covered
in two minutes flat. 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 1t was an election.
Sitting side by side in the street. Mr..
Dorsey timorously wiggled back and
forth loose tooth, while Mr.. Cassidy
tenderly caressed fast blackening
eye.
''Matchew," said Mr.. Cassidy at
length.
Mr. Dorsey removed his fingers from
/ bis mouth.
'sPhwat is ut?" he Oueried. 4