“Let it drop, gents!” advised Jerry McGlory who had just come in. McGlory was the club’s president and he felt that in his office it behoved him to act the part of a peacemaker. He took the wrathful Kelly aside and was trying to soothe him when McGonagle entered upon his errand.
“Somebody wants ye outside, Kelly,” announced Goose.
“Go ahead out an’ see ’em,” begged McGlory, delighted. “Ye’ll feel better after ye come back.”
Muttering under his breath, Kelly followed McGonagle down the steps, and after he had gone McGlory observed:
“That lobster’s too gay! He’s got a notion he runs this outfit.”
“Well, he’s got another t’ink,” said Murphy. “Say, us people made a foxy play when we turned down the fifty dollars his old man wanted to chip in toward gittin’ the pool table.”
“’Lection’s comin’,” remarked Ferguson. “He t’ought he’d cop our support be that move.”
“He don’t git no support o’ mine,” Murphy informed them. “I ain’t for no gent that pulls on both ends o’ the string. Le’me tell youse this,” rapping with his knuckles upon the piano top; “if Kelly scoops the nomination we’re a push o’ dead ones.”
“He’s puttin’ his net out though,” affirmed Roddy Ferguson. “O’Connor told me that he’s got the ward committee fixed, an’ that the heelers’ll pull for him at the primaries.”
“He’s got all the bums in the ward on his staff,” said McGlory. “He gits ’em out o’ jail when they’re pinched, an’ he’s loadin’ rum into them all day, over his bar.”