and the "cherub that sits up aloft" has Davy Jones's
street and number by heart.

One night there were sounds of revelry in the big brick tenement-house
next door but one to McGary's Family Cafe. The sounds seemed to emanate
from the apartments of the Walsh family. The sidewalk was obstructed by
an assortment of interested neighbours, who opened a lane from time to
time for a hurrying messenger bearing from McGary's goods pertinent to
festivity and diversion. The sidewalk contingent was engaged in comment
and discussion from which it made no effort to eliminate the news that
Norah Walsh was being married.

In the fulness of time there was an eruption of the merry-makers to
the sidewalk. The uninvited guests enveloped and permeated them, and
upon the night air rose joyous cries, congratulations, laughter and
unclassified noises born of McGary's oblations to the hymeneal scene.

Close to the curb stood Jerry O'Donovan's cab. Night-hawk was Jerry
called; but no more lustrous or cleaner hansom than his ever closed its
doors upon point lace and November violets. And Jerry's horse! I am
within bounds when I tell you that he was stuffed with oats until one of
those old ladies who leave their dishes unwashed at home and go about
having expressmen arrested, would have smiled--yes, smiled--to have seen
him.

Among the shifting, sonorous, pulsing crowd glimpses could be had of
Jerry's high hat, battered by the winds and rains of many years; of his
nose like a carrot, battered by the frolicsome, athletic progeny of
millionaires and by contumacious fares; of his brass-buttoned green
coat, admired in the vicinity of McGary's. It was plain that Jerry had
usurped the functions of his cab, and was carrying a "load." Indeed, the
figure may be extended and he be likened to a bread-waggon if we admit
the testimony of a youthful spectator, who was heard to remark "Jerry
has got a bun."

From somewhere among the throng in the street or else out of the thin
stream of pedestrians a young woman tripped and stood by the cab. The
professional hawk's eye of Jerry caught the movement. He made a lurch
for the cab, overturning three or four onlookers and himself--no! he
caught the cap of a water-plug and kept his feet. Like a sailor shinning
up the ratlins during a squall Jerry mounted to his professional seat.
Once he was there McGary's liquids were baffled. He seesawed on the
mizzenmast of his craft as safe as a Steeple Jack rigged to the fla