Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [30]
The keen grayish eyes of Mr. Dennis P. Gorman roamed the spaces of the starry June evening.
“Oh, yeh! I’m for Wilson, too. A brilliant scholar! Wilson’s a scholar, the brainiest President we had since Lincoln. And he kept us out of war. I think I’ll make a contribution, of course it will be small, a drop in the bucket, but then I’ll make my little contribution to the campaign,” said Lonigan.
Dennis P. Gorman told Lonigan quickly, but with his customary aloofness and dignity, that every contribution, no matter how small, would be appreciated, and that Wilson was not the President of Wall Street, but of the common people, and the common people were the ones he needed. And the Democratic party, Gorman called it our party, is the voice of the common people, the average, good, honest Americans like those of St. Patrick’s parish.
“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 beforehand 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