Fatty O'Leary's Dinner Party Read Online Free PDF

a bar while dressed in a quilt cover, but Mr. Delaney assured him that nobody would think anything of it.
    â€œThey wear all sorts of things round here,” he said. “You should see how some of the fellows dress! You won’t stand out at all.”
    Encouraged by this advice, Fatty and Betty pushed open the door of Terence Delaney’s Saloon and walked up to the bar. Apart from the bartender, there was only one other person in the room, a thin-faced man with a large ginger moustache. He was seated at a stool at the bar, and he flashed them a broad smile as they entered.
    â€œGood afternoon to you,” he said. “It’s a grand afternoon to be out. And a grand afternoon for a drink, so it is.” He looked down at his empty glass. Fatty immediately took the cue and ordered drinks not only for himself andBetty, but also for their fellow customer.
    â€œNow that’s very civil of you,” said the man. “My name is Delaney, but not the Delaney who owns this bar. The Good Lord has been kind to me, but not that kind. Perhaps in the next life I shall own a bar, but alas that is not given to me in this present existence.”
    They sat down together at the bar while the drinks were being poured. Delaney had asked for both a pint of stout and a large Irish whiskey – “They go terribly well together,” he had explained. “It’s an awful pity to keep them apart, I always think.”
    They raised their glasses in a toast.
    â€œNow you two good people are clearly Americans,” said Delaney. “Judging from your outfits.”
    Fatty looked down at his quilt cover. “There’s a reason for this–” he began. But Delaney had more to say.
    â€œWe have many of our people in America,” he said. “This part of Ireland played a big role in building up your country, so it did. Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Washington. Mr. Eisenhower. All of them Tipperary men, I understand.”
    He raised his stout and took a deep draught, virtually draining the glass.
    â€œNow you good people,” he continued, “you are clearly from this part of the world too. Way back. I can tell.”
    Fatty beamed. “Do you think so? Well, I suppose that everywhere has its own look …”
    â€œOf course it does,” agreed Delaney. “Now would you look at that poor glass! Empty already!”
    Fatty ordered another pint of stout and a further whiskey for their new friend.
    â€œThat’s very good of you,” said Delaney. “It helps me to talk about the old days in these parts. A spot of lubrication always helps.” He paused, gulping at the stout. “Now then, where was I? You people are obviously from America. But let me guess which part. Boston?”
    Fatty shook his head. “Fayetteville.”
    â€œFattyville?” asked Delaney, wiping the foam from his moustache.
    â€œNo,” said Fatty. “Fayetteville, Arkansas.”
    â€œWell now,” said Delaney. “A lot of people went over from here to Arkansas. Back in the old days. A lot of people. What would your name be?”
    â€œO’Leary,” said Fatty.
    Mr. Delaney put his empty glass down with a thump. “O’Leary? Would you believe that? What a co-incidence, and the Good Lord himself is my witness.” He looked ruefully at his empty glass before continuing. “I could have some very interesting information for you.”
    Fatty signalled to the barman. “A double here for Mr. Delaney, please.”
    â€œNow that’s very kind of you,” said Delaney. “You see, my old grandfather knew an O’Leary who went over to America. Over to Fattyville, I think.”
    â€œFayetteville.”
    â€œYes, that’s where he went.”
    Fatty looked at Betty. This was a marvellous development – very much better than they had dared hope. To get some actual information about the family roots – and so soon after