"I'm a agnostic by trade," I says. I spotted
that there word in a religious book one time, and
that's the first chancet I ever has to try it on any one.
You can't never tell what them reg'lar sockdologers
is going to do till you tries them.
"I see," says she. But I seen she didn't see.
And I didn't help her none. She would of ruther
died than to let on she didn't see. The Irish is
like that. Purty soon she says:
"Ain't that the dangerous kind o' work, though!"
"It is," I says. And says nothing further.
She sets down and folds her arms, like she was
thinking of it, watching my hands closet all the
time I was eating, like she's looking fur scars where
something slipped when I done that agnostic work.
Purty soon she says:
"Me brother Michael was kilt at it in the old
country. He was the most vinturesome lad of
thim all!"
"Did it fly up and hit him?" I asts her. I
was wondering w'ether she is making fun of me or
am I making fun of her. Them Irish is like that,
you can never tell which.
"No," says she, "he fell off of it. And I'm think-
ing you don't know what it is yourself." And the
next thing I know I'm eased out o' the back door
and she's grinning at me scornful through the
crack of it.
So I was walking slow around toward the front
of the house thinking how the Irish was a great
nation, and what shall I do now, anyhow? And
I says to myself: "Danny, you was a fool to let
that circus walk off and leave you asleep in this
here town with nothing over you but a barbed wire
fence this morning.
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