What them men did was not to compare them two at all. They just stood in line and every one of 'em raised his glass like she was a real queen; and they give her three cheers. Bonnie Bell she drops them a curtsy.
You see, them folks saw that, while we had the price and had the class, and could play some games, we was just folks. They felt all the time that they was just folks too. When you can play that game square and on the level, like Old Man Wright done, they can't beat you in politics.
Them people went away at last—even our little Dutch band, though they give up hard. The Wisner house was dark, while ours was all lit up—everything in it, including me, Curly. The papers said that the new alderman kept open house until a late hour. There was some truth in that—the door was open all night long.
At breakfast Old Man Wright was hungry, though he hadn't been to bed. He set, with his hands in his pockets, and looked out at Wisner's brick wall; and says he to me:
"This here is going to be a changed ward. I ain't in no man's vest pocket. I ain't done yet. This is just the beginning. But where's the kid, Curly?"
I went and found her. William was still hid somewhere—the night's doings had grieved him plenty. She come in and set down by her pa.
"Well, sis," says he, "you see your dad is getting some of them Better Things we come to Chicago after."
"Dad," says she, pushing back a little way from him and looking into his face, "tell me something."
"What is it, Honey?"
"The truth now—the truth."