Maggie gave a little nod, and her hands clasped each other in her lap.
"It's easy to guess how proud you must be o' your man!" Mrs. Barry's red face beamed with sympathetic exultation.
Maggie gulped; her strained lips parted: "Of course I'm proud."
"I wish you could 'a' heard the boys last night, Tom," cried Pete. "Are they for you? Well, I should say! You'll be made walkin' delegate at the very next meetin', sure."
"Well, I'd like to know what else they could do?" Mrs. Barry demanded indignantly. "With him havin' fought an' sacrificed as he has for 'em!"
"He can have anything he wants now. Tokens of appreciation? They'll be givin' you a gold watch an' chain for every pocket."
"But what'll they think after they've read the papers?" asked Tom.
"I saw how the bosses' fairy story goes. But the boys ain't kids, an' they ain't goin' to swallow all that down. They'll think about the same as me, an' I think them bosses ain't such holy guys as they say they are. I think there was somethin' else we don't know nothin' about, or else the bosses'd 'a' gone right through with the game. An' the boys'll not give credit to a boss when they can give credit to a union man. You can bet your false teeth on that. Anyhow, Tom, you could fall a big bunch o' miles an' still be in heaven."
"Now, the strike, Tom; what d'you think about the strike?" Mrs. Barry asked.
Before Tom could answer there was another knock. Maggie slipped away and ushered in Petersen, who hung back abashed at this gathering.