The policy-writer did not urge them, but turned to the waiter.
“Two fried eggs; a rare steak ant onions, ant a cup of coffee.”
And then Larry proceeded to state his views; Levitsky listened, never volunteering a word, until he had finished his excited remarks, then he spoke.
“Youse chends alvays treaded me right,” said he, “and I wud like to do someding for you, an’d dot ride? But McQuirk jusd god me oudt of drouble and I cand go pack on him, can I?” He flourished his arms wildly as though protesting against the mere thought. “I vill leave id to you fellas!” exclaimed he, “vould id be ride?”
This involved a question of ethics with which neither Larry nor McGonagle felt themselves capable of grappling.
“But say,” demanded Murphy, “do youse t’ink us people’s goin’ to make good to McQuirk because he got youse out o’ hock? If ye want’s to square yerself, don’t make us stand for that. Ye’ve copped a sneak on us, Levitsky, ye know ye have.”
They argued the question until the ordered breakfast appeared. Levitsky attacked it, apparently unmoved in his determination to remain faithful to the boss; the others got up angry and despairing.
“Just now,” said Larry, “it looks as if youse had us skinned to death; but, say, there’s a block for every punch, and if Daily and youse try to double bank us, we’ll git even in the convention if we have to pull the shack!”
And they left the place.