“Faith an’ I am,” answered her father, rising hurriedly, and slipping off his apron. “It’s bad luck enough I’m havin’ widout missin’ me juty. What time is it, asthore?”
“It wants on’y a few minutes.”
Clancy put on his coat. “It wur a black day,” he muttered, as he started off, “when I borryed that money av Malachi O’Hara. The owld villyan’ll keep his word, bad luck till him; it’s in a trench wid a pick I’ll be, afore the week’s out.”
After leaving Rosie and Larkin, Larry Murphy headed straight for O’Hara’s; but he had scarce gone a half block when he encountered Kerrigan and Mason, who had just paused before Owen Dwyer’s door. Mason grasped the young man’s hand and shook it warmly.
“I am delighted that you have made such a splendid fight against McQuirk,” said he.
“It ain’t McQuirk, so much,” said Larry. “Kelly’s the man I’m after.”
“We’re just going in to see Owen Dwyer, about the delegates for his division,” said Kerrigan. “Won’t you come in? He’ll want to see you, I know.”
Owen had seen the trio from the window and had opened the door in time to catch these words.
“Come in, Larry,” said he cordially. “It’s a stranger ye’ve made av yezsilf long enough.”
Owen had asked him to visit them many times before, but Larry had never done so because of the fear that Maggie would think he was forcing himself upon her, and this his pride would not permit. He was reluctant to enter even now, but somehow there was also a feeling of gladness in his being unable to refuse.