The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [21]
“Yeah, I’ll see you later, Dinny, and make a small contribution. But what I meant is how did you like the works tonight, Dinny?”
Lonigan saw Dennis P. Gorman frown at his use of the word Dinny. It was unintentional, a habit carried on from earlier days.
Mr. Dennis P. Gorman paused, and then expostulated:
“Oh! It was excellent. Excellent. Did you hear my daughter rendering a selection from Mozart and a nocturne from Sho-pan?”
“She was swell. I liked her,” said Lonigan.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that she was precisely swell; but I do believe, I do believe, that she interpreted the masters with grace, charm, talent, verve and fire,” said Mr. Dennis P. Gorman.
“Yes, Dennis,” said Lonigan.
“And your daughter did an excellent piece of acting,” said Dennis.
“Yeh, she did pretty well,” said Lonigan, his assumed modesty breaking across his face.
The two mothers also talked. They had finished on the superbness of their respective daughters, it was Mrs. Dennis P. Gorman’s word, and were now commenting on what a grand speech the pastor had made. Mrs. Gorman used the word new, and she redescribed the entertainment as nice. Mr. Dennis P. Gorman paused from his conversation with Lonigan to inform his wife that nice was not the correct word, and that she had mispronounced new; it was not noo.
Dorothy Gorman came out with Frances Lonigan; they both received their flowers. Dorothy Gorman was a plain-featured, almost homely girl, and standing beside Fran she looked pathetic. The appearance of the daughters led to gushiness and many cross compliments. When these were duly finished, Mrs. Lonigan invited Mr. and Mrs. Dennis P. Gorman home for a chat and a bit of ice cream. Mrs. Gorman accepted the invitation, but turned to her husband for his consent.
“Well, I’d like to, Mary, but you know that Dorothy here has had a trying time, and I believe that she had better come home, and we had better see that she gets the proper rest
But thank you, exceedingly, Mrs. Lonigan. And sometime I should enjoy the company of you and Patrick at our home.”
“Yes, do come for tea, but be sure and telephone before-hand to be certain that I’m in, because Dennis and I have a number of social engagements these days,” said Mrs. Dennis P. Gorman.
“Yes, May, and thanks,” said Mrs. Lonigan.
“Well, so long, Dinny,” said Lonigan, again an unintentional slip.
Mr. and Mrs. Dennis P. Gorman and their well-guarded daughter strode magnificently home.
The Lonigans moved over to chat with the Reilleys, who accepted their invitation. Fran Lonigan and Fran Reilley, a very pretty dark-haired girl, rounded up some of the kids. Just then Studs and Weary appeared, and the group trooped down to the Lonigans’.
IX
An extravagance of electricity, with almost every light in the house on, swelled the significance of the evening in the Lonigan household.
“I feel relieved that it’s all over,” said Mrs. Lonigan as she sat in one of the imitation-walnut dining-room chairs, sipping ice cream.
“It was grand,” responded Mrs. Reilley, who sat next to her hostess.
“Well, we did the right thing. I’m glad Father Gilhooley gave it to the people who send their children to the public schools, because the public schools ain’t no place for Catholic children, and I say it’s the bounden duty of parents to see that their children get the right upbringin’ by sending them to Catholic schools. It’s only right, and I say, I say, that when you do the right thing, you’re happier. You know, when you’re not happy, you’re worried and nervous, and you worry, and worry causes poisons in your system, and poisons in your system ruin your digestion and harm your liver. Yes, sir, I say that from a hygienic standpoint it