“Show me the man that can deal with men!” said Father Neal, dictatorially.
“Women is twice as hard to deal with!” cried old Hayes. “I 'll back Nancy Drake against any man in the barony.”
“Faith, and I remember her a pretty woman,” said Brierley, who would gladly have enticed the conversation out of its graver character. “A prettier girl than Mary Martin herself!” continued the inexorable Brierley, for the company did not appear to approve of his diversion.
“We are now discussing politics,—grave questions of state, sir,” said Father Neal,—“for we have come to times when even the most indifferent and insignificant amongst us cannot refrain feeling an interest in the progress of our country. And when I see a fine young man like that there, as one may say going a-begging for a party, I tell you that we are fools—worse than fools—if we don't secure him.”
“Do you mean for the borough?” asked Nelligan.
“I do, sir,—I mean for the borough!”
“Not till we have consulted my 'august leader,' I hope,” broke in Magennis.
“I'm for managing our own affairs ourselves,” said the priest. “What we want is a man of our own; and if that young gentleman there will take the pledges we should propose, I don't know that we'd readily get the like of him.”
The silence that now fell upon the party was ominous; it was plain that either the priest's proposition was not fully acquiesced in, or that the mode of announcing it was too abrupt. Perhaps this latter appeared the case to his own eyes, for he was the first to speak.
“Of course what I have said now is strictly among ourselves, and not to be mentioned outside of this room; for until my friend Dan Nelligan here consents to take the field against the Martin interest, there is no chance of opening the borough. Let him once agree to that, and the member for Oughterard will be his own nominee.”