Mr. Dooley's Philosophy, Finley Peter Dunne [world best books to read .TXT] 📗

“Well, sir, I guess I'm not up on etiket,” said Mr. Dooley.

“How's that?” demanded Mr. Hennessy.

“I've been readin' about Willum Waldorf Asthor,” replied Mr. Dooley, “an' th' throuble he had with a la-ad that bummed his way into his party. Ye see, Hinnissy, Willum Waldorf Asthor give a party at his large an' commodjious house in London. That's where he lives—in London—though he r-runs a hotel in New York, where ye can see half th' state iv Ioway near anny night, they tell me. Well, he give this party on a gran' scale, an' bought gr-reat slathers iv food an' dhrink, an' invited th' neighbors an' the neighbors' childher. But wan man he wudden't have. He's goin' over th' list iv th' people that's to come, an' he says to his sicrety: 'Scratch that boy. Him an' me bump as we pass by.' He didn't want this fellow, ye see, Hinnissy. I don't know why. They was dissatisfaction between thim; annyhow, he says: 'Scratch him,' an' he was out iv it.”

“Well, wan night, th' fellow was settin' down f'r a bite to eat with Lady O——, an' Lady S——, an' Lady G——, an' Lady Y——, an' other ladies that had lost their names, an' says wan iv thim, 'Cap,' she says, 'ar-re ye goin' to Asthor's doin's tonight?' she says. 'Not that I know iv,' says th' Cap. 'He hasn't sint me anny wurrud that I'm wanted,' he says. 'What differ does it make,' says th' lady. 'Write an invitation f'r ye'rsilf on ye'er cuff an' come along with us,' says she. 'I'll do it,' says the Cap, an' he sint f'r an automobile an' goes along.

“Well, ivrything was all r-right f'r awhile, an' th' Cap was assaultin' a knuckle iv ham an' a shell iv beer, whin Willum Waldorf Asthor comes up an' taps him on th' shoulder an' says: 'Duck.' 'What name?' says th' Cap. 'Asthor,' says Willum. 'Oh,' says th' Cap, 'ye're th' American gazabo that owns this hut,' he says. 'I am,' says Willum. 'I can't go,' says th' Cap. 'Ye didn't ask me here an' ye can't sind me away,' he says. 'Gossoon, another shell iv malt, an' dhraw it more slow,' he says. 'I am an English gintleman an' I know me rights,' he says. 'Dure or window,' says Willum. 'Take ye'er choice,' he says. 'If ye insist,' says th' Cap, 'I'll take th' dure,' he says, 'but ye don't know th' customs iv civilization,' he says; an' th' hired man just grazed him on th' dure sthep.

“Well, Willum Waldorf Asthor was that mad, he wint down to his pa-aper office, an' says he, 'I want to put in an item,' he says, an' he put it in. 'It is wished,' he says, 'to be apprihinded,' he says, 'be those desirous not to have been misinformed,' he says, 'concarnin' th' recent appearance iv Cap Sir Mills at me party,' he says, 'that 'twas not be me that said Cap Sir Mills come to be on th' site,' he says, 'but rather,' he says, 'through a desire on th' part iv Cap Sir Mills to butt into a party to which his invitation was lost about three hours befure 'twas written,' he says.”

“Well, now, ye'd think that was all right, wudden't ye? Ye'd say Asthor acted mild whin he didn't take down his goold ice pick from th' wall an' bate th' Cap over th' head. Th' Cap, though a ganial soul, had no business there. 'Twas Willum Waldorf Asthor that paid f'r the ice cream an' rented th' chiny. But that's where ye'd be wrong, an' that's where I was wrong. Whin th' Prince iv Wales heerd iv it he was furyous. 'What,' he says, 'is