The Day We Celebrate Page #2

"The Day We Celebrate" is a charming short story by O. Henry that delves into themes of love, surprise, and the joy of human connection. Set against the backdrop of a seemingly ordinary day, the narrative unfolds with whimsical twists and clever dialogue characteristic of O. Henry's style. As the characters navigate their intricate relationships, the story highlights the unexpected moments that make life special, ultimately celebrating the essence of togetherness and the small joys that can transform an ordinary day into something unforgettable.

• Short story

								

again.’

“‘Oh, you go to ’ell,’ says Liverpool, which was about all the repartee
he ever had.

“Well, Soledad, looked fine to me after Don Jaime’s plantation.
Liverpool and me walked into it side by side, from force of habit, past
the calabosa and the Hotel Grande, down across the plaza toward Chica’s
hut, where we hoped that Liverpool, being a husband of hers, might work
his luck for a meal.

“As we passed the two-story little frame house occupied by the American
Club, we noticed that the balcony had been decorated all around with
wreaths of evergreens and flowers, and the flag was flying from the
pole on the roof. Stanzey, the consul, and Arkright, a gold-mine owner,
were smoking on the balcony. Me and Liverpool waved our dirty hands
toward ’em and smiled real society smiles; but they turned their backs
to us and went on talking. And we had played whist once with the two of
’em up to the time when Liverpool held all thirteen trumps for four
hands in succession. It was some holiday, we knew; but we didn’t know
the day nor the year.

“A little further along we saw a reverend man named Pendergast, who had
come to Soledad to build a church, standing under a cocoanut palm with
his little black alpaca coat and green umbrella.

“‘Boys, boys!’ says he, through his blue spectacles, ‘is it as bad as
this? Are you so far reduced?’

“‘We’re reduced,’ says I, ‘to very vulgar fractions.’

“‘It is indeed sad,’ says Pendergast, ‘to see my countrymen in such
circumstances.’

“‘Cut ’arf of that out, old party,’ says Liverpool. ‘Cawn’t you tell a
member of the British upper classes when you see one?’

“‘Shut up,’ I told Liverpool. ‘You’re on foreign soil now, or that
portion of it that’s not on you.’

“‘And on this day, too!’ goes on Pendergast, grievous—‘on this most
glorious day of the year when we should all be celebrating the dawn of
Christian civilization and the downfall of the wicked.’

“‘I did notice bunting and bouquets decorating the town, reverend,’
says I, ‘but I didn’t know what it was for. We’ve been so long out of
touch with calendars that we didn’t know whether it was summer time or
Saturday afternoon.’

“‘Here is two dollars,’ says Pendergast digging up two Chili silver
wheels and handing ’em to me. ‘Go, my men, and observe the rest of the
day in a befitting manner.’

“Me and Liverpool thanked him kindly, and walked away.

“‘Shall we eat?’ I asks.

“‘Oh, ’ell!’ says Liverpool. ‘What’s money for?’

“‘Very well, then,’ I says, ‘since you insist upon it, we’ll drink.’

“So we pull up in a rum shop and get a quart of it and go down on the
beach under a cocoanut tree and celebrate.

“Not having eaten anything but oranges in two days, the rum has
immediate effect; and once more I conjure up great repugnance toward
the British nation.

“‘Stand up here,’ I says to Liverpool, ‘you scum of a despot limited
monarchy, and have another dose of Bunker Hill. That good man, Mr.
Pendergast,’ says I, ‘said we were to observe the day in a befitting
manner, and I’m not going to see his money misapplied.’

“‘Oh, you go to ’ell!’ says Liverpool, and I started in with a fine
left-hander on his right eye.

“Liverpool had been a fighter once, but dissipation and bad company had
taken the nerve out of him. In ten minutes I had him lying on the sand
waving the white flag.

“‘Get up,’ says I, kicking him in the ribs, ‘and come along with me.’

“Liverpool got up and followed behind me because it was his habit,
wiping the red off his face and nose. I led him to Reverend
Pendergast’s shack and called him out.

“‘Look at this, sir,’ says I—‘look at this thing that was once a proud
Britisher. You gave us two dollars and told us to celebrate the day.
The star-spangled banner still waves. Hurrah for the stars and eagles!’

“‘Dear me,’ says Pendergast, holding up his hands. ‘Fighting on this
day of all days! On Christmas day, when peace on—’

“‘Christmas, hell!’ says I. ‘I thought it was the Fourth of July.’”

“Merry Christmas!” said the red, white, and blue cockatoo.

“Take him for six dollars,” said Hop-along Bibb. “He’s got his dates
and colours mixed.”
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