William Dean Howells

“ We shall have to explain and explain. Fiction has entirely failed us, and I feel that the truth is giving way under our feet. I’ll tell you what, Roberts!”
Roberts, in despair: “What?”
Campbell: “Why, if McIlheny should happen to come back alone, we mustn’t wait for him to renew his invitation to drink; we must take him out ourselves, and get him drunk; so drunk he can’t remember anything; stone drunk; dead drunk. Or, that is, you must. I haven’t got anything to do with him. I wash my hands of the whole affair.”
Roberts: “You mustn’t, Willis! You know I can’t manage without you. ”

“ I should advise you to go out and get on some train; I’d willingly wait here for Amy and Agnes; but you see the real cook might come here, after you went, and I shouldn’t know her from Adam—or Eve. See?”
Roberts, desperately. “I see—Good heavens! Here comes that woman back; and a man with her. Willis, you must help me out.” Roberts gets falteringly to his feet, and stands in helpless apprehension, while Mr. and Mrs. McIlheny bear down upon him from the door. Mr. McIlheny, a small and wiry Irishman, is a little more vivid for the refreshment he has taken. ”

“ The Chorewoman is going about with a Saturday afternoon pail and mop, and profiting by the disoccupation of the place in the hour between the departures of two great expresses, to wipe up the floor. She passes near the door where Mrs. Roberts is standing, and Mrs. Roberts appeals to her in the anxiety which her failure to detect the object of her search has awakened: “Oh, I was just looking for my husband. He was to meet me here at ten minutes past three; but there don’t seem to be any gentlemen.” ”

“ Don’t go and ask a woman if she’s a cook, or had an appointment to meet a gentleman here. That won’t do. I’ll tell you! You might introduce the business by asking if she had happened to see a lady coming in or going out; and then describe Agnes, and say you had expected to meet her here. And she’ll say she hadn’t seen her here, but such a lady had just engaged her as a cook. And then you’ll say you’re the lady’s husband, and you’re sure she’ll be in in a moment. And there you are! That’s the way you ought to have worked it with Mrs. McIlheny. ”

“ Do take your book out and hold it in your hand, so you’ll be sure to remember it, as soon as you see Willis. You had better keep saying over to yourself, ‘Willis—Hundred-Trip Tickets—Willis—Hundred-Trip Tickets;’ that’s the way I do. Where is the book? I have to remember everything! Do keep your ticket-book in your hand, Edward, till Willis comes.”
Roberts: “But I want to read, Agnes, and I’ve got to hold my Pop. Sci. with one hand and keep your traps in my lap with the other. Did you find a cook?” ”

“ She picks her way round the area of damp left by the mop, and approaches the hat from behind. “It is you, Edward! What a horrid idea I had! I was just going to touch your hat from behind, for fun; but I kept myself from it in time.”
Roberts, looking up with a dazed air from the magazine in his hand: “Why, what would have happened?”
Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, you know it mightn’t have been you.”
Roberts: “But it was I.”
Mrs. Roberts: “Yes, I know; and I was perfectly sure of it; you’re always so prompt, and I always wonder at it, such an absent-minded creature as you are. ”

“ The Colored Man who calls the Trains, coming and going as before: “Cars for Newton, Newtonville, West Newton, Auburndale, Riverside, Wellesley Hills, Wellesley, Natick, and South Framingham. Express to Newton. Track No. 5.”
Campbell: “Ah, she’s off! She’s going to take the wrong train. She’s gathering her traps together, Roberts!”
Roberts: “I’ll go and speak to her.” He makes a sudden dash for the woman in the corner. Campbell takes up his magazine, and watches him over the top of it, as he stops before the woman, in a confidential attitude. ”

“ She’s such a neat, quiet, lady-like person, and all the better for being Irish and a Catholic: Catholics do give so much more of a flavor; and I never could associate that Nova Scotia, sunken-cheeked leanness of Maria’s with a cook. This one’s name is—well, I forget what her name is; Bridget, or Norah, or something like that—and she’s a perfect little butter-ball. She’s coming to go out on the same train with us; and she’ll get the dinner to-night; and I sha’n’t have the mortification of sitting down to a pickup meal with Amy Campbell, the first time she has visited us ”

“ Better keep them all in your lap here together, and then nobody will come and sit on them.” She disburdens herself of her packages and parcels, and arranges them on her husband’s knees, while she goes on talking. “I’m almost ready to drop, I’m so tired, and I do believe I should let you go up to Stearns’s for me; but you couldn’t describe the bag so they would recognize it, let alone what was in it, and they wouldn’t give it to you, even if they would let you in to inquire: they’re much more likely to let a lady in than a gentleman. ”

“ The Cook, bursting upon him from behind Roberts, who eagerly gives place to her: “I’ll tell ye that meself, ye impidint felly! What’s to kape a cuke from lukun’ like a lady, or a lady from lukun’ like a cuke? Ah, Mike McIlheny, ye drunken blaggurd, is it me ye’re tellin’ that Mary Molloy never put her hands in wather, and kept hilpers to milk her father’s cows! Cows indade! ”

“ If it hadn’t been for my principle of always asking questions, I never should have found you in the world. But just as I was really beginning to despair, the Chorewoman came by, and I asked her if she had seen any gentleman here lately ”

“ McIlheny, after a swift glance at Campbell’s proportions and self-possession: “That’s what ye’re after thinkun’, Mary; but I haven’t got annything to do with what ye’re after thinkun’. All I wannt to know is what this mahn meant by preshumin’ to speak to a lady he didn’t know, and takun’ her for a cuke.” To Roberts: “Will ye tell me that, ye—”
Roberts, in extreme embarrassment: “Yes, yes, certainly; I shall be very glad to explain, if you’ll just step here to the corner. We’re attracting attention where we are—”
McIlheny: “Attintion! ”