The Four Million | Page 3

the stretch of it?"
"I do not," says the man.
"~Can~ ye spell it with an 'o'?" inquires Tobin, turning anxious.
"If your conscience," says the man with the nose, "is indisposed toward
foreign idioms ye might, to please yourself, smuggle the letter into the
penultimate syllable."
"'Tis well," says Tobin. "Ye're in the presence of Jawn Malone and
Daniel Tobin."
"Tis highly appreciated," says the man, with a bow. "And now since I
cannot conceive that ye would hold a spelling bee upon the street
corner, will ye name some reasonable excuse for being at large?"
"By the two signs," answers Tobin, trying to explain, "which ye display
according to the reading of the Egyptian palmist from the sole of me
hand, ye've been nominated to offset with good luck the lines of trouble
leading to the nigger man and the blonde lady with her feet crossed in
the boat, besides the financial loss of a dollar sixty-five, all so far
fulfilled according to Hoyle."
The man stopped smoking and looked at me.
"Have ye any amendments," he asks, "to offer to that statement, or are
ye one too? I thought by the looks of ye ye might have him in charge."
"None," says I to him, "except that as one horseshoe resembles another
so are ye the picture of good luck as predicted by the hand of me friend.
If not, then the lines of Danny's hand may have been crossed, I don't
know."
"There's two of ye," says the man with the nose, looking up and down
for the sight of a policeman. "I've enjoyed your company immense.
Good-night."

With that he shoves his segar in his mouth and moves across the street,
stepping fast. But Tobin sticks close to one side of him and me at the
other.
"What!" says he, stopping on the opposite sidewalk and pushing back
his hat; "do ye follow me? I tell ye," he says, very loud, "I'm proud to
have met ye. But it is my desire to be rid of ye. I am off to me home."
"Do," says Tobin, leaning against his sleeve. "Do be off to your home.
And I will sit at the door of it till ye come out in the morning. For the
dependence is upon ye to obviate the curse of the nigger man and the
blonde lady and the financial loss of the one-sixty-five."
"'Tis a strange hallucination," says the man, turning to me as a more
reasonable lunatic. "Hadn't ye better get him home?"
"Listen, man," says I to him. "Daniel Tobin is as sensible as he ever
was. Maybe he is a bit deranged on account of having drink enough to
disturb but not enough to settle his wits, but he is no more than
following out the legitimate path of his superstitions and predicaments,
which I will explain to you." With that I relates the facts about the
palmist lady and how the finger of suspicion points to him as an
instrument of good fortune. "Now, understand," I concludes, "my
position in this riot. I am the friend of me friend Tobin, according to me
interpretations. 'Tis easy to be a friend to the prosperous, for it pays; 'tis
not hard to be a friend to the poor, for ye get puffed up by gratitude and
have your picture printed standing in front of a tenement with a scuttle
of coal and an orphan in each hand. But it strains the art of friendship to
be true friend to a born fool. And that's what I'm doing," says I, "for, in
my opinion, there's no fortune to be read from the palm of me hand that
wasn't printed there with the handle of a pick. And, though ye've got
the crookedest nose in New York City, I misdoubt that all the
fortune-tellers doing business could milk good luck from ye. But the
lines of Danny's hand pointed to ye fair, and I'll assist him to
experiment with ye until he's convinced ye're dry."
After that the man turns, sudden, to laughing. He leans against a corner
and laughs considerable. Then he claps me and Tobin on the backs of

us and takes us by an arm apiece.
"'Tis my mistake," says he. "How could I be expecting anything so fine
and wonderful to be turning the corner upon me? I came near being
found unworthy. Hard by," says he, "is a cafe, snug and suitable for the
entertainment of idiosyncrasies. Let us go there and have drink while
we discuss the unavailability of the categorical."
So saying, he marched me and Tobin to the back room of a saloon, and
ordered the drinks, and laid the money on the table. He looks at me and
Tobin like brothers of his, and