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114 pages

English

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One of O. Henry's most critically lauded collections of short stories, The Four Million homes in on the inhabitants of New York City. While many authors of the era focused exclusively on the denizens of the upper classes, O. Henry set out to chronicle the lives of those at every point on the socioeconomic spectrum. Packed with stirring stories about salt-of-the-earth men and women, The Four Million is a richly rewarding read.

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Short story

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 février 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775456759
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE FOUR MILLION
* * *
O. HENRY

*
The Four Million First published in 1906 ISBN 978-1-77545-675-9 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Foreword Tobin's Palm The Gift of the Magi A Cosmopolite in a Café Between Rounds The Skylight Room A Service of Love The Coming-Out of Maggie Man About Town The Cop and the Anthem An Adjustment of Nature Memoirs of a Yellow Dog The Love-Philtre of Ikey Schoenstein Mammon and the Archer Springtime à la Carte The Green Door From the Cabby's Seat An Unfinished Story The Caliph, Cupid and the Clock Sisters of the Golden Circle The Romance of a Busy Broker After Twenty Years Lost on Dress Parade By Courier The Furnished Room The Brief Début of Tildy
Foreword
*
Not very long ago some one invented the assertion that there wereonly "Four Hundred" people in New York City who were really worthnoticing. But a wiser man has arisen—the census taker—and hislarger estimate of human interest has been preferred in marking outthe field of these little stories of the "Four Million."
Tobin's Palm
*
Tobin and me, the two of us, went down to Coney one day, for there wasfour dollars between us, and Tobin had need of distractions. For therewas Katie Mahorner, his sweetheart, of County Sligo, lost since shestarted for America three months before with two hundred dollars, herown savings, and one hundred dollars from the sale of Tobin's inheritedestate, a fine cottage and pig on the Bog Shannaugh. And since theletter that Tobin got saying that she had started to come to him not abit of news had he heard or seen of Katie Mahorner. Tobin advertised inthe papers, but nothing could be found of the colleen.
So, to Coney me and Tobin went, thinking that a turn at the chutes andthe smell of the popcorn might raise the heart in his bosom. But Tobinwas a hardheaded man, and the sadness stuck in his skin. He ground histeeth at the crying balloons; he cursed the moving pictures; and, thoughhe would drink whenever asked, he scorned Punch and Judy, and was forlicking the tintype men as they came.
So I gets him down a side way on a board walk where the attractions weresome less violent. At a little six by eight stall Tobin halts, with amore human look in his eye.
"'Tis here," says he, "I will be diverted. I'll have the palm of me handinvestigated by the wonderful palmist of the Nile, and see if what is tobe will be."
Tobin was a believer in signs and the unnatural in nature. He possessedillegal convictions in his mind along the subjects of black cats, luckynumbers, and the weather predictions in the papers.
We went into the enchanted chicken coop, which was fixed mysterious withred cloth and pictures of hands with lines crossing 'em like a railroadcentre. The sign over the door says it is Madame Zozo the EgyptianPalmist. There was a fat woman inside in a red jumper with pothooks andbeasties embroidered upon it. Tobin gives her ten cents and extends oneof his hands. She lifts Tobin's hand, which is own brother to the hoofof a drayhorse, and examines it to see whether 'tis a stone in the frogor a cast shoe he has come for.
"Man," says this Madame Zozo, "the line of your fate shows—"
"Tis not me foot at all," says Tobin, interrupting. "Sure, 'tis nobeauty, but ye hold the palm of me hand."
"The line shows," says the Madame, "that ye've not arrived at yourtime of life without bad luck. And there's more to come. The mountof Venus—or is that a stone bruise?—shows that ye've been in love.There's been trouble in your life on account of your sweetheart."
"'Tis Katie Mahorner she has references with," whispers Tobin to me in aloud voice to one side.
"I see," says the palmist, "a great deal of sorrow and tribulation withone whom ye cannot forget. I see the lines of designation point to theletter K and the letter M in her name."
"Whist!" says Tobin to me, "do ye hear that?"
"Look out," goes on the palmist, "for a dark man and a light woman; forthey'll both bring ye trouble. Ye'll make a voyage upon the water verysoon, and have a financial loss. I see one line that brings good luck.There's a man coming into your life who will fetch ye good fortune.Ye'll know him when ye see him by his crooked nose."
"Is his name set down?" asks Tobin. "'Twill be convenient in the way ofgreeting when he backs up to dump off the good luck."
"His name," says the palmist, thoughtful looking, "is not spelled out bythe lines, but they indicate 'tis a long one, and the letter 'o' shouldbe in it. There's no more to tell. Good-evening. Don't block up thedoor."
"'Tis wonderful how she knows," says Tobin as we walk to the pier.
As we squeezed through the gates a nigger man sticks his lighted segaragainst Tobin's ear, and there is trouble. Tobin hammers his neck, andthe women squeal, and by presence of mind I drag the little man out ofthe way before the police comes. Tobin is always in an ugly mood whenenjoying himself.
On the boat going back, when the man calls "Who wants the good-lookingwaiter?" Tobin tried to plead guilty, feeling the desire to blow thefoam off a crock of suds, but when he felt in his pocket he foundhimself discharged for lack of evidence. Somebody had disturbed hischange during the commotion. So we sat, dry, upon the stools, listeningto the Dagoes fiddling on deck. If anything, Tobin was lower in spiritsand less congenial with his misfortunes than when we started.
On a seat against the railing was a young woman dressed suitable for redautomobiles, with hair the colour of an unsmoked meerschaum. In passingby, Tobin kicks her foot without intentions, and, being polite to ladieswhen in drink, he tries to give his hat a twist while apologising. Buthe knocks it off, and the wind carries it overboard.
Tobin came back and sat down, and I began to look out for him, for theman's adversities were becoming frequent. He was apt, when pushed soclose by hard luck, to kick the best dressed man he could see, and tryto take command of the boat.
Presently Tobin grabs my arm and says, excited: "Jawn," says he, "do yeknow what we're doing? We're taking a voyage upon the water."
"There now," says I; "subdue yeself. The boat'll land in ten minutesmore."
"Look," says he, "at the light lady upon the bench. And have yeforgotten the nigger man that burned me ear? And isn't the money I hadgone—a dollar sixty-five it was?"
I thought he was no more than summing up his catastrophes so as to getviolent with good excuse, as men will do, and I tried to make himunderstand such things was trifles.
"Listen," says Tobin. "Ye've no ear for the gift of prophecy or themiracles of the inspired. What did the palmist lady tell ye out of mehand? 'Tis coming true before your eyes. 'Look out,' says she, 'for adark man and a light woman; they'll bring ye trouble.' Have ye forgotthe nigger man, though he got some of it back from me fist? Can ye showme a lighter woman than the blonde lady that was the cause of me hatfalling in the water? And where's the dollar sixty-five I had in me vestwhen we left the shooting gallery?"
The way Tobin put it, it did seem to corroborate the art of prediction,though it looked to me that these accidents could happen to any one atConey without the implication of palmistry.
Tobin got up and walked around on deck, looking close at the passengersout of his little red eyes. I asked him the interpretation of hismovements. Ye never know what Tobin has in his mind until he begins tocarry it out.
"Ye should know," says he, "I'm working out the salvation promised bythe lines in me palm. I'm looking for the crooked-nose man that's tobring the good luck. 'Tis all that will save us. Jawn, did ye ever seea straighter-nosed gang of hellions in the days of your life?"
'Twas the nine-thirty boat, and we landed and walked up-town throughTwenty-second Street, Tobin being without his hat.
On a street corner, standing under a gas-light and looking over theelevated road at the moon, was a man. A long man he was, dressed decent,with a segar between his teeth, and I saw that his nose made two twistsfrom bridge to end, like the wriggle of a snake. Tobin saw it at thesame time, and I heard him breathe hard like a horse when you take thesaddle off. He went straight up to the man, and I went with him.
"Good-night to ye," Tobin says to the man. The man takes out his segarand passes the compliments, sociable.
"Would ye hand us your name," asks Tobin, "and let us look at the sizeof it? It may be our duty to become acquainted with ye."
"My name" says the man, polite, "is Friedenhausman—Maximus G.Friedenhausman."
"'Tis the right length," says Tobin. "Do you spell it with an 'o'anywhere down the stretch of it?"
"I do not," says the man.
" Can ye spell it with an 'o'?" inquires Tobin, turning anxious.
"If your conscience," says the man with the nose, "is indisposed towardforeign idioms ye might, to please yourself, smuggle the letter into thepenultimate syllable."
"'Tis well," says Tobin. "Ye're in the presence of Jawn Malone andDaniel Tobin."
"Tis highly appreciated," says the man, with a bow. "And now since Icannot conceive that ye would hold a spelling bee upon the streetcorner, will ye name some reasonable excuse for being at large?"
"By the two signs," answers Tobin, trying to explain, "which ye displayaccording to the reading of the Egyptian palmist from the sole of mehand, ye've been nominated to offset with good luck the lines of troubleleading to the nigger man and