“Loyal!” cried Kearns, flushing, “loyal to what? The existing administration, I suppose you mean?”
“Yes; to the—to the—existing administration,” stammered the barkeeper confusedly.
At this point Dean interposed, with some show of warmth.
“Then,” he cried, “I feel sorry for your intelligence, for there was never a bigger nest of corruptionists and oppressors of the people than the existing administration!”
As these words were uttered there was a murmur and a strange commotion in the place. The man with the squint left the table and quickly passed out. His companion rose and placed himself at the door, as if to check any attempt at exit. The bartender turned pale as one of his clouts behind the bar.
“Hush,” he whispered, apprehensively; “hush! You will get yourselves into trouble and the house will lose its license.”
“A pretty state of things,” retorted the Professor, “when a free American citizen cannot speak his mind openly. I say it, and I don’t care who hears me, that I am opposed to Corruption, Imperialism and Trusts!”
“GO!” cried the barkeeper, with the air of a man wrought by his fears to a pitch of rage. “Out you go, I say! You can’t talk that way in here!”
“All right!” interposed Kearns, apparently much amused at the warmth displayed; “this gentleman has told you his views and we’ll now take our cigars, and go.”
“No! no!” cried the bartender, hastily removing the cigar boxes; “go now—quick!”