Young Kelly, unnoticed, had followed Hogan into the room.
“What’s that!” demanded he. “Speak yer piece, McCarty, don’t talk behind me back.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll talk in front o’ yer face when the time comes.”
Martin struck the cushion of the pool table with his fist. “I want to hear it right now; what are youse goin’ to put me before the meetin’ for?”
“Ah, yer crooked,” said McCarty.
“Me crooked! I can lick the guy that says it.”
Murphy leaned his cue against the wall. “Ye done me out o’ a five spot by stackin’ the papers,” said he.
Kelly hesitated. Larry was one of the quietest men in the district; but then he was also the man that the club had entered in the tournament for amateurs a few years before and he had carried off the light weight cup by beating three men in the finals.
“I ain’t scrappin’ with no professionals,” growled Martin at length.
“I ain’t no professional,” insinuated McCarty.