The Luck of the Irish Page #6

- No more beer, thank you.

- Just a small one. And yourself, Miss Norah?

- No, my tea'll be plenty.

Are you expecting many people?

Well, if all come that

me old lady has invited...

the place'll be running over

into the avenue itself.

Cornelius's daughter

is getting married Friday.

- Well, congratulations.

- Thank you, sir.

- If you'd care to attend- - I'd like to,

but my time is pretty well taken up right now.

If you change your mind you're

entirely welcome. The more the merrier.

- Thank you.

- Cornelius, I'll take the check.

Eat now.

Oh, yes.

- You still haven't told me why you're here.

- Oh, it's very simple.

Taedy's uncle Peter died here

in New York and left him a bit of money.

Mmm.

That's Mr. Crimmins, hmm?

No, no. His Driscoll uncle

from Galway.

The one that married

the eldest Brady girl...

whose father had the farm

next to Sweeney's.

- Oh, that one.

- Yes. You see, Mr. Driscoll had four sisters.

The eldest was married

to Francis Corrigan...

that had a public house in Limerick

with his brother Seamus.

Well, that failed for drinking

with the customers...

so my father took Taedy on

as a lad to help with the horses.

- Then he came to America.

- Corrigan.

No. No, Uncle Driscoll,

as I'm telling you.

You see, his favorite sister was Kathleen-

that's Taedy's mother.

And when young Paddy

went to sea in 1920...

he changed his will,

leaving everything to Taedy.

He never cared much for Rory or that

little witch of a Ryan girl he married.

- There was some trouble with the O'Sheas, of course.

- Mmm. Of course.

They figured that their mother,

being the eldest, was entitled to a share.

But Martin O'Shea had

done well in marriage...

with the O'Dooleys

from up Knocknasheega...

and that was only a bit of an inheritance,

a few shillings a month...

so there was no trouble to persuade them

not to make any complications.

That made everything very simple.

Oh, well, it would have been...

but for Uncle Driscoll

being a bit hazy in his notions...

and thinking that Taedy was a girl.

So he left his money to his beloved niece.

Can you imagine?

I, uh, can't think

what confused him.

Anyway, someone had to come to straighten

things out, and Taedy wouldn't budge.

He mistrusts the sea and refused flat-out

to set foot on the Atlantic.

He said, "I'd rather die a poor man,

but a dry one. "

So that's why I'm here.

So that's why I'm here.

I'm, uh, very glad

you made it plain to me.

And I'm very glad you're here.

Oh, Stephen,

I never thought I'd see you.

When I knew I was coming, I wrote that

nice Mr. Clark in London for your address.

- But he didn't answer.

- He's probably on the Continent.

He did tell me one thing, though,

before he left-

that anytime,

whatever might happen...

he'd be glad to

have you back with him.

Did he say that?

If it's a question of passage money,

I'm sure he'd advance it.

- Well-

- Oh! A bit more of the nice stew!

- Oh, no. I couldn't.

- But you had very little before.

- But I-I-

- Aw, come on, now.

- A drop of this'll do you good, make you strong as a horse.

- All right, Cornelius.

Do your duty.

- And another potato.

- Another potato.

Another potato.

Mr. Augur, a personal question.

As a former newspaperman, how's it feel to be

against the wall instead of on the firing squad?

It feels awful.

Except I know you fellas

will give me a break.

Do you think there'll

be another war?

- I answered that a few minutes ago.

- No, you didn't.

But then, nobody else has either.

I understand you support

the Crawford proposal for Germany.

Absolutely. That's a must,

as far as I'm concerned.

I'd like to read you

a comment on this proposal. Quote::

"The Crawford proposal is a fraud

on the German people...

"a death sentence

for European democracy...

and a betrayal of American interests

and ideals. " Unquote.

This appeared in

the American Spectator on June 6...

under the byline

of Stephen Fitzgerald...

the same Stephen Fitzgerald

who is running your brain trust today.

Would you like to comment? Or perhaps

Mr. Fitzgerald would like to discuss it.

- Well, boys-

- The answer to that is very simple.

When Fitz wrote that, he was working

for someone else. Now he's working for me.

Fellas, let me change my shirt, will ya?

I haven't sweat this much

since my firstjob carrying a hod.

You got any pictures of yourself

carrying a hod?

Sorry. I didn't know I was

going into politics then.

- So long, Fitz.

- Bob.

- See you, Fitz.

- Bye.

Good to see you, Fitz. Why don't you

drop around to the club sometime?

Well, they keep me pretty busy.

Yeah, we all have to make a living.

- Give me a ring, hmm?

- Right.

- Good-bye, sir. Thank you.

- Good-bye.

- Thanks a lot, Mr. Augur.

- Not at all.

You handled that perfectly, D.C.

I was afraid for a minute that-

Do you want anything else, Mr. Augur?

No, thank you.

- Should have told me about that piece, Fitz.

- You read it, didn't you?

Yeah, I read it, but I didn't remember

it was so strong.

It'd be embarrassing if the opposition

made an issue of it.

- But you knew those were my views when you hired me.

- Well, this is politics, Fitz.

- Where'd you put that bottle?

- Let me do it, D.C.

This is politics.

Gotta keep one jump ahead of'em.

Right away, D. C!

Not you.

I've got it. You'll do a piece for New Era.

We don't go to press till tomorrow night.

On foreign policy- second thoughts since

you've had a chance to study the situation.

You know, on the other hand the Crawford

proposal is not as bad as you first thought.

A pretty good thing,

in the long run.

My agreement with you calls for perjury,

but not under my own byline.

Fitz.

Have that thing on my desk

by tomorrow noon.

Here you are, D.C.

What are you doing here?

I let you go out this morning

without a clean handkerchief, sir.

I hope you forgive me. I was thinking

about it all the time I was dusting.

I said to myself, "There's poor Mr. Fitzgerald

writing all those important political speeches...

and him without a handkerchief

to put to his nose. "

That's very good of you, Horace. Now, if

you don't mind, I have some work to do.

- Yes, sir.

- And after this, if you forget anything...

you don't need to

come chasing after me.

There's such a thing as taking

one's job too seriously.

- Oh, no, sir. Not when your heart's in your work.

- It's just a job, Horace.

No, sir.

It's more than that.

'Tis a life, indeed.

When a man enters

the personal services of another man...

he must be prepared

to surrender himself to his vocation.

'Tis the master who matters,

not the man.

And soon, if the man

takes to his work...

the master's wish

will become his wish...

the master's thought his thought...

the master's soul his soul.

When the master gets hurt,

the man will cry out.

When the master's nose itches,

it will be the man who sneezes.

He will live for his master,

not for himself.

Perhaps you find it difficult

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