O'Keefe

“ O’Keefe,” said Dodger. “It’ll take a good while for you to fade away.”
“Hear him now,” said the apple-woman, laughing. “He will have his joke, Miss Florence, but he’s a good bye for all that, and I’m glad he’s goin’ to lave Tim Bolton, that ould thafe of the worruld.”
“Now, Mrs. O’Keefe, you know you’d marry Tim if he’d only ask you.”
“Marry him, is it? I’d lay my broom over his head if he had the impudence to ask me. When Maggie O’Keefe marries ag’in, she won’t marry a man wid a red nose.”
“Break it gently to him, Mrs. O’Keefe. Tim is just the man to break his heart for love of you.” ”

“ Lysle," gruffed the surgeon with a professional air. "He is very ill. He must be kept wrapped in hot linseed poultices and—"
"Oh, I say, doctor," remonstrated poor O'Keefe, "I'm not that bad."
"You're a very sick man," scowled the surgeon. "Now, Mrs. Lysle has graciously offered to help nurse you. She'll see that you have hot fomentations every half hour. I'll drop in twice a day to see how you are getting along." And with that miserable prospect before him, poor O'Keefe watched the surgeon disappear. ”

“ Can’t you bite out the specks? The rest of the apple is good. You’re gettin’ mighty particular.”
Mattie bit a piece out of the sound part of the apple, and, when Mrs. O’Keefe was at a safe distance, gave the rest to a lame bootblack, and picked out one of the best apples for her own eating.
“Bridget O’Keefe is awful mane wid her apples!” soliloquized Mattie, “but I’m too smart for her. Tryin’ to pass off one of her old specked apples on me! If I don’t take three good one I’m a sinner.”
Arrived at the front of the saloon, Mrs. O’Keefe penetrated the interior, and met Tim near the door. ”

“ And with one mighty, united heave, they brought the loudly protesting old man to his feet and held him there. O'Keefe faced me.
"Might be well to take a look around, sir, and see if you think of anything else he's stolen, before we take him off."
"Good idea, Lightnut!" Old Braxton stopped struggling and whirled his head toward me, his face almost black with rage. "Ha, ha! Why don't you have me searched? There's not a pocket in these damn pajamas!"
"Anything whatever, sir, we'll have him leave behind," said O'Keefe.
"By Jove!" I don't know how I ever managed to say it. ”

“ It’s a continued story of a soldier of fortune, generally named O’Keefe, who gets to be dictator while the Spanish-American populace cries “Cospetto!” and other Italian maledictions. I misdoubt if it’s ever been done. You’re not thinking of trying that, are you, Barney?’ I asks.
“‘Bowers,’ says he, ‘you’re a man of education and courage.’
“‘How can I deny it?’ says I. ‘Education runs in my family; and I have acquired courage by a hard struggle with life.’
“‘The O’Connors,’ says he, ‘are a warlike race. There is me father’s sword; and here is the map. A life of inaction is not for me. ”

“ But what shall we say of the people? The lower orders are so brutified by the lamentable follies of O’Keefe, and Cobbe, and Pilon, and I know not who—Sardi venales, each worse than the other—that they have lost all relish for simplicity and genuine humour; nay, ignorance itself, unless it be gross and glaring, cannot hope for ‘their most sweet voices.’ And the higher ranks are so mawkishly mild that they take with a placid simper whatever comes before them ”

“ Mr. Keefe said that he knew of a horse, one the Government hadn't snapped, and to be bought for the value—if Mrs. Weston was for the chase.
That neat-looking lady said she was, indeed; but in Kleeawuvia there were no side saddles, and would people here object to her riding like a man?
Mr. Keefe replied that Lady Rosie O'Brien rode astride, and that ought to be enough for anyone. Here he tried to get up, to find himself enveloped in the grey warp and woof of Gheena's sock, a portion of the wool having unwittingly got round Darby's crutch, so that at every wave he had unwrought much labour. ”

“ This bond stuff is all right, but if you get into a mess with this strike business I couldn't handle your case. The firm wouldnt stand for it," he whispered fiercely. Then he said aloud in his usual voice, "Well how's the wife, Gus?"
Outside in the shiny marble hall, Joe O'Keefe was whistling Sweet Rosy O'Grady waiting for the elevator. Imagine a guy havin a knockout like that for a secretary. He stopped whistling and let the breath out silently through pursed lips. In the elevator he greeted a walleyed man in a check suit. ”

“ Curtis has tried to find her, but in vain. He says she is in Chicago.”
“And what should take her to Chicago?”
“He says she is there as a governess in a family.”
“By the brow of St. Patrick!” thought Mrs. O’Keefe, “if that Curtis isn’t a natural-born liar. I’m sure she’d come back if you’d send for her, sir,” said she, aloud.
“Do you think so?” asked Linden, eagerly.
“I’m sure of it.”
“But I don’t know where to send.”
“I know of a party that would be sure to find her.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s a young man. They call him Dodger. If any one can find Miss Florence, he can.”
“You know my niece’s name?” ”

“ It had been an almost deadly struggle between man and beast; and Horace was to bear the marks upon the face and form that had been loved so well to his life's end. A broken-featured man, lame, with a stiff arm, and a sightless eye--and the story of his ruined life no longer a secret--known to all.
Lady Greystock and Mrs. Evelyn remained at Beremouth. Mary Lorimer was left at her grandmother's under the care of the trusty Jenifer. James O'Keefe had returned to Ireland, leaving his niece and her history in good guardianship with Father Daniels and Mr. Brewer ”

“ Jean Baptiste Massillon, a renowned French preacher, was born at Hyères, June 24, 1663, and died at Clermont, September 18, 1742. His sermons have been translated into English, also the funeral oration on Louis XIV. (London, 1872.)
A glass is good, and a lass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
The world is good, and the people are good,
And we’re all good fellows together.
“Sprigs of Laurel,” Act. II. Sc. I,—John B. O’Keefe.
John B. O’Keefe, a famous Irish dramatist, was born in Dublin, June 24, 1747, and died at Southampton, February 4, 1833. ”

“ The recital of these circumstances induced O'Keefe to introduce the incident in the part of Nipperkin, in Springs of Laurel, or "Rival Soldiers".
Footnote 8: (return) Oxberry appeared on the stage for the last time, this night, as Corporal Foss.
Footnote 9: (return) At or near Mickleham, by the way, the writer might have commanded a distant view of the burning City. On a fine, clear day we have often discerned the dome of St. Paul's from one of the hills rising from Mickleham to Norbury Park. ”

“ Sir Geo. George and Mary! here's levelling, here's abolition of title with a vengeance!
Lady Am. Kinsman, be patient; thou, and thy son, my cousin Henry, whom I have not beheld, I think, these twelve years, shall be welcome to my dwelling. Where now abideth the youth?
Sir Geo. At the Naval Academy, at Portsmouth.
Lady Am. May I not see the young man?
Sir Geo. What, to make a quaker of him?—No, no. But, hold, as she's now a wealthy heiress, her marrying my son Harry, will keep up and preserve her title in our own family too. [Aside.] Would'st thou really be glad to see him? thou shalt, Mary. ”

“ Lady B. But, consider, my dear, if Colonel Epaulette does us the honour of a visit, how he'll be shocked at your appearance!
Sir J. B. Thank you, thank you, wife; but I don't think I'm quite so shocking.
Lady B. Then, if he does introduce us to the prince—Sir John, to tell you a secret, I have already sent for one Mr. Lapoche, a celebrated French tailor, to make you a new suit of clothes for the occasion.
Sir J. B. A French tailor for me!—very well, very well, ladies.
Enter First Waiter.
Waiter. Mr. Lackland, madam; would you chuse to see him?
Sir J. B. Ay, ay, let the poor devil come up. ”

“ Rover. You'll get nothing by it. Do you know, you villain, that I am this moment the greatest man living?
Twitch. Who, pray?
Rover. "I am the bold Thunder!" Sirrah, know that I carry my purse of gold in my coat-pocket. Though damme if I know how a purse came there. [Aside, and takes it out.] There's twenty pictures of his majesty; therefore, in the king's name, I free his liege subject; [Takes Banks away.] and now who am I? Ah, ah!
Twitch. Ten pieces short, my master; but if you're a housekeeper I'll take this and your bail.
Rover. Then for bail you must have a housekeeper? What's to be done! ”

“ Sir Geo. What, how dare you reflect on the humours of the navy? The navy has very good humours, or I'd never see your dog's face again, you villain! But I'm cool. What, eh, boy, a snug, easy chariot?
Harry. I'll order it. Waiter, desire my father's carriage to draw up. [Calls.
Sir Geo. Mine, you rogue! I've none here. I mean Lady Amaranth's.
Harry. Yes, sir; Lady Amaranth's chariot! [Calling.]
Sir Geo. What are you at? I mean that which you left this house in.
Harry. Chariot! sir, I left this house on foot.
Sir Geo. What, with John Dory?
Harry. No, sir, with Jack Rover. ”

“ Rover. Will you be quiet with your Jacking? I'm now 'Squire Harry.
Harry. What?
Rover. I've been pressed into this service by an old man of war, who found me at the inn, and, insisting I am son to a Sir George Thunder, here, in that character, I flatter myself I have won the heart of the charming lady of this house.
Harry. Now the mystery's out. Then it's my friend Jack has been brought here for me! [Aside.] Do you know the young gentleman they take you for?
Rover. No: but I flatter myself he is honoured in his representative.
Harry. Upon my soul, Jack, you're a very high fellow. ”

“ Henry. What! to be a scoundrel?
Tall. Oh, very well; if you're so nice—ay, now, you're a very delicate chicken! But, harkye, the next time you see sister Celia, don't look at her.
[Going
Henry. Stop, Tallyho—I think I'll punish my knowing one. [Aside.] On second thoughts, I will join with you in this roguery.
Tall. Then you're a cursed honest fellow—my sister's yours.
Henry. Ay, with her consent——
Tall. Her consent! if we make the match, what has her consent to do with it?—but I'll settle that—come, you shall have it from her own mouth, this instant.
Henry. But what shall I do with Rosa? ”

“ Enter Sir George.
Sir Geo. Now to relieve these foolish seagulls—they must be hovering about this coast—Ha! puppy unknown!—
Rover. You're the very man I was seeking.—You are not ignorant, Mr. Abrawang—
Sir Geo. Mr. what?
Rover. You will not resign your title, ha, ha, ha! Oh, very well, I'll indulge you,—Sir George Thunder, you honoured me with a blow.
Sir Geo. Did it hurt you?
Rover. 'Sdeath! but let me proceed like a gentleman; as it's my pride to reject even favours, no man shall offer me an injury.
Sir Geo. Eh!
Rover. In rank we're equal.
Sir Geo. Are we faith? [Smiling.] ”

“ Do you see, brother, this is the thing—
Enter Sir George, at the back, unperceived.
Sir Geo. If these should be my deserters. [Aside.
1st Ruff. We three hands, just come home after a long voyage, were pressed in the river, and without letting us see our friends, brought round to Portsmouth, and there we entered freely, cause why? We had no choice, then we run. We hear some gentleman is in chace of us, so as the shot are all out, we'll surrender.
John. Surrender! Oh then you've no shot left indeed—let's see. [Feels his pocket.] ”

“ Sir J. B. What!—your hand, my Briton!—you shall never want a nail for your hat, in my parlour, at dinner time—you shall post my books, and take the whip hand of my lady's gig on a Sunday.
Lack. Drive a gig! My dear dad, you shall rattle up in your vis-a-vis, to the astonishment of all Garlick Hill.
Sir J. B. My dearee and I ride, side by side, in a vis-a-vis! ha! ha! ha!
Tall. Yes, and if you whip your gig down to Yorkshire, I'll mount her ladyship upon Whirligig, and, Sir Jackey, my lad, up you go again upon Kick-him-Jenny. ”

“ Sim. That's it! He's at it! [Claps.] Laugh, feyther.
F. Gam. Hold your tongue, boy! I believe he's no better than he should be. The moment I saw him, says I to myself, you are a rogue.
Rover. There you spoke truth for once in your life.
F. Gam. I'm glad to hear you confess it. But her ladyship shall have the vagrants whipp'd out of the country.
Rover. Vagrant! "Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee!" "Only squint, and, by Heaven, I'll beat thy blown body till it rebounds like a tennis ball."
Sim. Beat my feyther! No, no. Thou must first beat me. [Puts himself in a posture of defence.]
Rover. ”

“ Oh! them play actors you went amongst have quite spoiled you. I wish only one of 'em would come in my way. I'd teach 'em to bring a gentleman's son tramboozing about the country.
Enter Waiter.
Waiter. Her ladyship's chariot's at the door, and I fancy it's you, sir, the coachman wants.
John. Yes, it's me. I attend your honour.
Rover. Then you insist on it that I am—
John. I insist on nothing, only you shall come.
Rover. Indeed! Shall! Shall is a word don't sound over agreeable to my ears.
John. Does a pretty girl sound well to your ear? ”

“ Right, your ladyship: for charity hides a deal of sins. How good of you to think of the poor! that's so like me; I'm always contriving how to relieve my neighbours—you must lay Banks in jail to-night. [Apart to Twitch.]
Enter Jane.
Jane. A'nt please you, will your ladyship enter our humble dwelling, and rest your ladyship in feyther's great cane bottom'd elbow chair with a high back. [Curtsies.]
F. Gam. Do, my lady. To receive so great a body from her own chariot is an honour I dreamt not of; though, for the hungry and weary foot traveller, my doors are always open, and my morsel ready. ”