Читать книгу The Resurrection of Mary Mabel McTavish - Allan Stratton - Страница 16

The Call

No sooner had Mary Mabel been introduced to the evangelists than they were interrupted by visitors. “It’s the Three Stooges,” Floyd whispered. “Don’t give them your name, or there’ll be trouble.” She decided to trust his advice: better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

“If it isn’t the gentlemen of the press,” the evangelist called out. “What brings you boys out on a 3:00 a.m. constitutional? The Londonderry air? Or are you after some London derrière?”

“I’d ask the same of you,” the youngest snorted. “Who’s the doll?”

Floyd grabbed her by the elbow. “Why, Mr. Doyle, this is a vagrant we caught on a tip.”

Mary Mabel took her cue. Imagining herself the ruined heroine of The Fallen Shopgirl, she went knock-kneed. “Is you me Daddy?” she asked, clinging drunkenly to his lapels.

“High on turpentine,” Floyd confided.

Clucking tongues and shaking heads. How exciting! Mary Mabel decided to go all out. “I’ve been a bad girl, Daddy,” she pouted. “Take me home and spank me!”

“I’m not your Daddy, child.”

“We can purr-tend,” she hiccuped, and threw her left arm open to the newsmen. “Which one-ov-you wants to be my Daddy?” She batted her eyes.

They took a step backwards, half-interested, half-afraid.

“No takers?” she sobbed prettily. “Then I’m all alone in the big bad world, and me with a bun in the oven.” She shook her fist at the moon. “Curse you Billy Bounder!”

Floyd stepped hard on her instep. “Shut your trap. Your Daddy’s in the county jail! And that’s where you’ll be headed too, soon as we raid the tent!”

At word of a raid, the newsmen perked up. Floyd turned to his partner. “Lead the way, while I guard our potted Petunia. En route, you can regale the lads with your conversion stats.”