mood, would play on her weaknesses by
sending a carriage and pair to our house that transgressed in both these
respects. On such occasions she would order the checkreins
removed imme-diately, then we would drive down to McAuliffe's stable and
wait for a pair of long tailed horses to be hitched into the car-
riage before proceeding towards Boston. Meanwhile she would berate Pat
for his cruelty in owning docktail horses and using checkreins while
Pat, with a twinkle in his eye, would try to ex- plain how most of his
customers preferred the stylish look.
"Don't ever do this to me again," she would say as we finally drove
off — but he did !
Stories about Pat McAuliffe, mostly started by himself, were always
circulating around town. Once he met a lady at the sta- tion
who was considering taking a house in Weston for the summer. As
they approached the center she pointed at the stone church and asked
what denomination it was.
"Unitarian," said Pat, and then he asked, "Are you Unitarian?"
"No — I'm Episcopalian,"
Pat looked at her, shook his head and sighed, "Then you
might as well take a house in hell for the summer as here."
As chief of police he was able to take care of Westonians who
became involved in out-of-town traffic violations, for in those
days a sort of reciprocal agreement existed among neighboring towns.
Once Mrs. Lyman Gale was stopped in Newton for speeding and she got her
husband to contact Pat.
"Don't give it another thought," was the reply "I'll fix it up
for you." A few days later he called back and explained apolo-getically,
"They have a new police chief in Newton and he's impossible. He refuses
to do anything for me. I've had men out