Twenty Years of Hus'ling Part 36

"All right, sir; I'll take you."

We shook hands on it, and I said:

"Dutchy, come around here and show the Doctor your pants."

He did so; and the Doctor didn't know whether to believe his own eyes or not. I asked when he would buy me the two hats. He said: "Never! I'll be ---- if I will be taken in on any confidence game."

I agreed to let it go, if he would keep still about Dutchy's dress, and furnish a razor for him to shave with every morning. He promised, and we had a hearty laugh over the matter.

The next day, as I was pa.s.sing through the hall-way, Dutchy came to the door of the room where he was working, and said:

"Mr. Johnston, I find a pair of pants here youst exactly like mine."

I stepped in, and sure enough, there hung a pair in the Irish shoemaker's room, the exact counterpart of Dutchy's.

I explained to Dutchy that we would have a little fun with the Irishman, and told him to wait for instructions from me before he attempted to play his part.

I then took the pants down to the office, and let the Doctor into the secret.

The next Sat.u.r.day the Irishman came rus.h.i.+ng down stairs in great excitement, and reported the loss of his pants. I said:

"Well, Irish, if you don't find them, I'll go with you to pick out another pair."

"But, be the Howly Moses! will yez pay for thim?"

I told him I'd see that he paid for them. He threatened to leave, but the Doctor helped to quiet him down.

I then found Dutchy and told him to try and call at the Irishman's room the next day when he was in, and manage in some way to raise his dress, so that the Irishman would get a glimpse of his pants. He a.s.sured me he would fix that all right.

On Sunday morning, about ten o'clock, Irish came rus.h.i.+ng down stairs on the jump, rushed up to me, and said:

"Be the Howly St. Crispin and Moses in the bulrushes! May the divil fly away wid me if I haven't found moy pants!"

"Good! Good! Where were they?"

"Howly Moses! come wid me to wan side. I'll tell yez on the quiet."

"Never mind about the quiet, Irish. Sing out; tell everybody."

"Oh, be jabers! ye'd laste expect to find thim where I seed thim."

"Well, tell us."

"Yes, tell us," said the Doctor.

"Well," he hesitatingly said, "be the howly shmoke, the ould chambermaid has thim on, as sure as I'm a loive Irishman!"

"Oh, nonsense!" I replied. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to come down here in the presence of these men and try to injure the character of that poor chambermaid."

"By the great horned spoon! but she has the pants on, and Oi'll have thim, charackther or no charackther, Misther Landlord!"

"Well, now, see here, Irish, I'll bet the cigars for the crowd, that she hasn't got your pants on."

"All right, sir, all right, sir; I'll take that bet."

While we were shaking hands on the bet, the Doctor took a bundle from under the counter containing the pants and ran up to the Irishman's room, and hung them up.

We then went up-stairs, accompanied by several bystanders, and after reaching the Irishman's room, I called to the chambermaid to come in.

Irish stood waiting for me to introduce the subject to the maid, and I waited for him. I then turned to him and said:

"Well, Irish, prove your case."

"Well, be jabers! d'ye s'pose I am going to insult this lady? Not by a dang sight, pants or no pants."

I turned to Dutchy and said:

"Have you got Irish's pants on?"

"Nix; I youst got my own pants."

"Well, come around here, Dutchy, and show Irish your pants."

Obeying my order, the dress was raised, exposing the pants to view.

Irish straightened himself up, and in a very triumphant manner, said:

"Well, there, Misther Landlord, I giss yez are quite well satisfied.

I'll take the cigars, and the pay for thim pants, if yez plaise."

I turned round and said:

"Whose pants are these hanging here, Irish? Did you have two pair alike?"

He looked at them and said:

"Be gobs! she took thim off while me back was turned."

I then offered to bet him the cigars that she didn't.

He said he'd bet no more, but he knew there was some chicanery, or dom hy-pocritical prognostication, somewhere.

I then asked the chambermaid to raise the dress again, which was done, and Irish left the room disgusted, and muttering a few oaths to himself.

Afterwards he paid the cigars for the crowd.

He then asked if I wud explain what the divil right any chambermaid had to wear pants, anyhow.

I answered that it was none of my business, and I hoped I was too much of a gentleman to meddle with other people's private affairs.