The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-11-18

and various Ga II
-AA-%-
nhvs,oo1 Mrs. Slattery Had tho
combat, he "Ne''
has few equals and no superiors.
. 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 a piece of faring wrapping pa
per.
One year later, to a day, Mr.. Dor
sey, glowering at Mr.. Cassidy, and Mr..
Cassidy, g%lowering 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 a 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 II
they'll live on half as much" he burst
forth, IAN now gi'me me turkey"
The agent turned in cold hauteur.
"They's one out on the platform In
a crate" he returned, frigidly. "The
names rubbed off, so I don't know
who it belongs to-"
Its mine" said Mr.. Dorsey.
"Ye're a liar" said Mr.. Cassidy.
""Twas on'y yesterday me o Moike
writ me tellin' me he'd stint me wan"
howled MI. Cassidy. "Oi how tn let
ther!"
"Oh, no, you how, how you!" yelled
Mr.. Dorsey. We'll, yez couldn't read
it, anyhow, so phwat's tn d~ifference?'
Mr.. Cassidy throbbed with anger.
"Ofll l'arn We phwat tn difference
Isl" he howled. He took off 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 a 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 evcr few.
Hold" he cried, extending spin.
ding arms.
Mr.. Dorsey eyed him truculently.
"Gowan!' he yelled, threateningly.
"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 fist caught
Mr.. Dorsey IN the eye, while the other
enr- eshed itself in MI. Cassidy's Glen.
garrys.
It was we'll for Lieutenant Dalrym.
pie that he vas a good runner. The
half mile to headquarters he covered
in two minutes fiat, and he spent the
rest of the morning in a Saratoga
trunk in the garnet, 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.
Matthew" said Mr.. Cassidy at
length.
MIR. Dorsey removed his fingers from
his mouth.
"Phwat Is ut?" he queried.
Lave US go home an ate our twr-
rkey," said Mr.. Cassidy.
Mr.. Dorsey nodded profoundly.
"Yis," he said. AN whin we've fin
ished-'twill be dark by thin-we'll
COON back an lay f'r thot Salvashun
army divvle, be hivvins!"-Pennsyf
vania Grit.
Much to Be Thankful For.
We have much to be thankful. for.