“But Daily and Levitsky!” remonstrated Kerrigan. “He’ll seat them, they’ll vote and they have no right!”
“They kin seat all they want,” determinedly, “but they don’t vote for Kelly.”
“You’re a bolitician, Larry,” said Gartenheim, admiringly. “Dot’s a good scheme, ain’d it?”
“Say, Larry,” said Roddy Ferguson, allowing a crowd of delegates to precede him to the stairs, “I’m goin’ out to t’row a couple o’ beers into this gang. Look out for Nolan while I’m out, will ye? Don’t let him get near Mart Kelly.”
“What’s on the hooks?”
“That’s all right; just keep an eye on him; we don’t want no trouble.”
“There’s McQuirk,” said Kerrigan, as that gentleman entered and shook old Kelly’s hand with theatrical warmth. A crush of delegates gathered about the boss, who seemed in high good humour. He stooped over and whispered something in Kelly’s ear, and the saloonkeeper laughed uproariously, his face growing mottled with excitement, his hands gesticulating madly.
“We have thim!” vociferated the candidate, glowing upon his supporters like a spotted sun; “we have thim on the run, so we have. Begorry, McQuirk, it’s at school they shud be instead av playin’ at politics!”
“Keep it quiet,” advised McQuirk; “keep it quiet, and let’s get down to business.” He took Haley aside. “How is it goin’?” questioned he.
“All to the good,” answered Mr. Haley. “The chairmanship’s ourn. There ain’t no one else but me in sight!”