“G’way!” Goose stared at his friend, amazedly. “It must be a roast. Murphy was a friend o’ Larkin’s; he wouldn’t play him dirt like that!”
“What’s Larkin got to do with it?”
“Why him an’ Rose was engaged—on the quiet, ye know.”
“Whew!” Jerry whistled through his teeth and frowned across the table at the other. “I’ll bet the best skate we’ve got in the stable that Murphy don’t know a thing about it.”
“But Rose does! She’s give Jimmie the ice-house laugh, that’s what she’s done; he’s only a sparrer, an’ Murphy’s got the money, see? I never put me lamps on a woman yet that wasn’t daffy after a guy what’s got a wad o’ rags.”
Danny Casey who sat by a window, emerged from behind his newspaper, took his feet from the sill, and observed:
“There seems to be lots o’ new t’ings chasin’ around. When I heard that Dick Nolan and Roddy Ferguson had made up, ye cud a-knocked me down with a straw; but when I seen them workin’ together against Kelly, why, say, I almost fainted.”
“That was a funny t’ing,” agreed McGonagle. “I tried to pump Roddy, but he was dead dry. But, say, it’ll be a good snap for us all, eh? Nolan’s ace high with Gartenheim, and if he kin coax him to step out, and give O’Connor a push, Kelly’ll be a dead cock in the pit.”
Casey shook his head doubtfully. He felt that Goose’s hopes were a trifle too roseate.
“Dick pulls some weight wit’ the old man,” admitted he; “but he can’t do all that. I tell youse Gartenheim’s too sore on O’Connor to turn in for him. Stick to Murphy’s lay-out; we’ve got the best chance there. When we spring it, take me word for it, the whole shootin’ match’ll stand up on their hind legs.”