an ol' bachelor meself, but that 's not my fault. None o' the gurrls 'ud have me."
"I 'm sure I don't know why," she said, with a coquettishness that concealed sarcasm.
He smiled a broad smile between his gray whiskers. "I never made it out meself. But then I never had Barney's way with the gurrls. How 's the work, Barney?"
"Oh, all to the good," he said. "Lots o' work, anyway."
"That's right." He had caught Tim's frown. "Lots o' work fer all of us. How 's the speech, Tim?"
Tim studied his knuckles. "It 's all right, I guess."
"Well, if I had your gift, boy, I 'd 've stopped at nothin' short o' the Prisidency." He chuckled. "I 'm a clam at a speech. The best I can say is, 'What 'll yeh have?'" He covered the three men with an inviting smile. "What 'd yeh say to a high ball?" Old Nick glanced up furtively and looked away when he found his brother's eye on him. "Come on, Nick. This 's a holiday. We c'n afford to ferget our troubles."
The old man tried to hide the fact that he was flattered. The Honorable Michael took him by the knee and shook it playfully. "We 'll be in our graves soon. Ferget it, man. Come have a drink."
Barney helped his father to his feet. "Go on, Pop," he coaxed. "Go an' tank up. Get some bubbles in you. This 's a picnic. You 're as flat as milk."
"Well, by the jukes," the father muttered, "I 'm that hot I 'd drink with all hell." One corner of his
