"Does that go?"
"It goes, Coffey Neal."
"And we don't get a lithograph in the front window?"
"You don't."
The five men withdrew a little for conference. Then Coffey Neal paid his reckoning with a quarter and a nickel.
The bartender rang up twenty-five cents on the register. Neal pointed to the five-cent piece upon the bar.
"That's for yourself, Jack."
The sardonic bartender placed it between his teeth. "It's phony," said he. "Take it back and put it in your campaign fund." He smiled, keeping his right hand below the bar.
"After election," Coffey Neal remarked through his nose, "your old man (he meant Jack's father-in-law) can't sell this place for the fixtures in it."
Jack concealed a yawn with his left hand.