Mike Flannery

Mike Flannery

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mike Flannery On Duty and Off, by
Ellis Parker Butler, Illustrated by Gustavus C. Widney
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Title: Mike Flannery On Duty and Off
Author: Ellis Parker Butler
Release Date: March 9, 2005 [eBook #15300]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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FLANNERY ON DUTY AND OFF***
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MIKE FLANNERY
On Duty and Off
by
ELLIS PARKER BUTLER
Illustrations by Gustavus C. Widney
New York Doubleday, Page & Company
MCMIX

[Illustration: "_'Pho-e-nix!' Is it a man's name, I dunno?_"]

CONTENTS
I. JUST LIKE A CAT
II. THE THREE HUNDRED
III. FLEAS WILL BE FLEAS

ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Pho-e-nix!' Is it a man's name, I dunno?" (Frontispiece)
"''Tis well enough t' say kape it, but cats like thim does not kape very
well'"
"'I will tell you what it is,' said Mr. Gratz"

"Her pencil was delicately poised above the ruled page"

I
JUST LIKE A CAT
They were doing good work out back of the Westcote express office.
The Westcote Land and Improvement Company was ripping the whole
top off Seiler's Hill and dumping it into the swampy meadow, and Mike
Flannery liked to sit at the back door of the express office, when there
was nothing to do, and watch the endless string of waggons dump the
soft clay and sand there. Already the swamp was a vast landscape of
small hills and valleys of new, soft soil, and soon it would burst into
streets and dwellings. That would mean more work, but Flannery did
not care; the company had allowed him a helper already, and Flannery
had hopes that by the time the swamp was populated Timmy would be
of some use. He doubted it, but he had hopes.
The four-thirty-two train had just pulled in, and Timmy had gone
across to meet it with his hand-truck, and now he returned. He came
lazily, pulling the cart behind him with one hand. He didn't seem to
care whether he ever got back to the office. Flannery's quick blood
rebelled.
"Is that all th' faster ye can go?" he shouted. "Make haste! Make haste!
'Tis an ixpriss company ye are workin' fer, an' not a cimitery. T' look at
ye wan w'u'd think ye was nawthin' but a funeral!"
"Sure I am," said Tommy. "'Tis as ye have said it, Flannery; I'm th'
funeral."
Flannery stuck out his under jaw, and his eyes blazed. For nothing at all
he would have let Timmy have a fist in the side of the head, but what
was the use? There are some folks you can't pound sense into, and
Timmy was one of them.
"What have ye got, then?" asked Flannery.

"Nawthin' but th' corpse," said Timmy impudently, and Flannery did do
it. He swung his big right hand at the lad, and would have taught him
something, but Timmy wasn't there. He had dodged. Flannery ground
his teeth, and bent over the hand-truck. The next moment he
straightened up and motioned to Timmy, who had stepped back from
him, nearly half a block back.
"Come back," he said peacefully. "Come on back. This wan time I'll do
nawthin' to ye. Come on back an' lift th' box into th' office. But th' next
time--"
Timmy came back, grinning. He took the box off the truck, carried it
into the office, and set it on the floor. It was not a large box, nor heavy,
just a small box with strips nailed across the top, and there was an
Angora cat in it. It was a fine, large Angora cat, but it was dead.
Flannery looked at the tag that was nailed on the side of the box. "Ye'd
betther git th' waggon, Timmy," he said slowly, "an' proceed with th'
funeral up t' Missus Warman's. This be no weather for perishable goods
t' be lyin' 'round th' office. Quick speed is th' motto av th' Interurban
Ixpriss Company whin th' weather is eighty-four in th' shade. An',
Timmy," he called as the boy moved toward the door, "make no
difficulty sh'u'd she insist on receiptin' fer th' goods as bein' damaged.
If nicissary take th' receipt fer 'Wan long-haired cat, damaged.' But
make haste. 'Tis in me mind