§ 258 A Slight for the Kellys
Somebody was reminded the other day—and, by the same token reminded me—of one that I hadn’t heard for at least ten years. The best authorities agree that a good story stands revival every five years.
As the tale runs, the parish priest called on a well-to-do parishioner named Kelly, for a substantial contribution to the fund for purchasing a bronze bell for the church. Mr. Kelly was in a generous mood. He gave a larger sum than any other member of the congregation gave.
The bell was purchased and installed. Meeting Mr. Kelly a few days later, the clergyman said:
“What do you think of the new bell?”
“I’m sorry I gave a cint,” said Mr. Kelly, shortly. “If I’d known what was goin’ to happen ye’d have had no money from me.”
“You astonish me,” said the Father. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I’ll tell ye what’s wrong with it,” said Mr. Kelly; “whin that bell rings do ye hear it speakin’ me name? Ye do not. All ye hear it sayin’ is: ‘Doolan, Donlan, Donovan, Dugan!’”