"My old woman's waitin'!
_Bad_ news! It's _good_ news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman of
the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and that
Dan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin'
home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at the
pleasant odor from the stove.
"A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira Lynch caught her hands together.
"It's the good luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on the
docks works harder than my big Dan." Her eyes shone like two stars.
"Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so I'll go along.
Good-night, Mrs. Lynch."
"God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered Moira, too overcome to manage
her voice.
Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught the
wondering Beryl into her arms.
"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be to
have doubted. My big Dan!"
"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interrupted
Beryl, round-eyed.
"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone she would have used if
she had said "a king." She-danced about until the floor creaked
threateningly.
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