Though Dennis was now pretty thoroughly fatigued with the hard day's
work, he entered on this task with a good will as the closing labor
of the day, hoping, from the wide space to be cleared, to receive
proportionate recompense. And yet his despatch was not so great as
usual, for in spite of himself his eyes were continually wandering to
the large show-windows, from which smiled down upon him summer
landscapes, and lovely faces that seemed all the more beautiful in
contrast with the bleak and darkening street.

He was rudely startled from one of his stolen glances at a sweet,
girlish face that seemed peering archly at him from a corner. His ears
were assailed by the loud tones and strong brogue of "Pat," returning
thus late to his neglected duties.

"Bad luck to yez! what yez doin' here?"

"Clearing the sidewalk," said Dennis, laconically.

"Give me that shovel, or I'll knock bloody blazes out of yez."

Dennis at once stood on the defensive, and raised his tool
threateningly. At the same time seeing a policeman, he called out,
"Will you please cause this drunken fellow to move on?"

The officer was about to comply, when the Irishman, with a snort like
that of a mad bull, rushed to the door of the art building, wrenched
it open, and, leaving it so, tore down the long store, crying, "Misther
Ludolph! Misther Ludolph! here's a bloody spalpane a-doin' my work."