“It puts me in mind,” remarked Tim Burns; “av the owld days whin we stepped till the music oursilves, Clancy, on Paddy’s day, beyant on Broad Street.”
“True for ye, Tim, an’ we wid the axes on the shoulders av uz, an’ the bokays, an’ the strings av doughnuts till ate on the march. Faith an’ the young fellys know nawthin’ av the harp an’ the sunburst; an’ it’s withered in the hearts av most av the owld wans too, I’m thinkin’. God luk down on uz! Till think av all the talk there wur av the owld land, then, an’ the little we hear av it now. Divil a green flag d’yez see hangin’ out av the windys on the siventeenth av March; an’ the Land League do be forgotten. The owld blood’s growin’ thin, Tim—thin as water!”
About the doors of the convention hall, the same hall where the Aurora Borealis Club had held their ball, the scene was one of extreme animation. The groups of high-hatted, tobacco-chewing men, seemed possessed by demons of movement and noise. They laughed with the full strength of their chests, waved their arms wildly and swore joyously, with the unconscious finish of experts. Kelly and his henchmen had already arrived; he had been greeted as a hero by his own faction and now stood in the hallway surrounded by a solid circle of supporters. Gratten Haley who had been named for school director the night before in a convention held in a back kitchen on Second Street, approached Owen Dwyer.
“Has McQuirk got here yet?” asked Haley.
“I haven’t seen him. Sure, Gratten, it’s not at a side issue like this he’d be, whin there’s McAteer’s nomination for Congress till be looked after.”
“That’s where you make your little old mistake,” smiled Mr. Haley. “This is the only fight in town; all the others is cinched; and Mac’ll be on the ground to keep the gang in line.”
“An’ tell me, Gratten; d’yez t’ink Kelly will win?”
“Ye can search me! McQuirk says yes; but I wouldn’t put me roll on it, at that. It runs t’rough me that there’ll be doin’s this mornin’, and if Jim Kelly wins, it’ll be a mix for yer life. And if he goes under, he’ll fall like a rotten wall!”
“I hear the young fellys’ll be contestin’ Tim Daily an’ what’s-his-name that kapes the policy shop. Young Kerrigan do be after tellin’ me that they got the papers by a trick.”
Owen was innocence personified; he knew that Haley possessed information that would be of use.