Haley hammered vigorously for order; old Kelly and his friends were gathered in a clump, shouting their observations in each other’s ears; Larry stood near the platform, frantically endeavouring to attract the chairman’s attention, and turning every moment to swear at his friends for their uproar. He saw that the moment for action was at hand; the surprise had been sprung and had given his faction heart, and he determined to strike again while they were white hot. Gradually the noise began to settle; and, though now and then a cheer volleyed across the hall, his voice could be heard:
“A vote,” stormed he, “a vote.”
The cry was taken up by a dozen voices.
“Vote! Vote!” vociferated the insurgents. “Take the vote!”
This, at a nod from McQuirk, Haley proceeded to do; the secretary began to read off the names, and the delegates answered “Kelly” or “Kerrigan” as the case might be. As the vote began, a concerted movement of a dozen young men, led by Larry and McGonagle, was made toward the point where Daily and Levitsky were sitting.
“Changed yer mind, Daily?” questioned Larry.
“Not on yer life,” answered Daily, but with an uneasy glance about him. He saw in their faces that they were ready for anything; and that they were awkward men to handle, he knew, partly from experience, partly by hearsay.
“I t’ink youse’ll turn in for Kerrigan when they hand out yer name.” Larry leaned carelessly upon the back of Daily’s chair, and spoke very quietly.
“It’s just as easy to say Kerrigan as Kelly,” put in McGonagle, “an’ I guess Levitsky’ll say it, too, when it’s up to him.”
“I wut like to oblitch your—” began the policy-writer.