"Then, that's the best thing we could discuss, boys," said Murphy to his friends—"so up with the supper, Dan. Up with the supper! Up with the Egans! Down with the Scatterbrains—hurrah!—we'll beat them gaily."
"Hollow!" said Durfy.
"Not hollow," said Dick; "we'll have a tussle for it."
"So much the better," cried Murphy; "I would not give a fig for an easy victory—there's no fun in it. Give me the election that is like a race—now one ahead, and then the other; the closeness calling out all the energies of both parties—developing their tact and invention, and, at last, the return secured by a large majority."
"But think of the glory of a large one," said Dick.
"Ay," added Durfy, "beside crushing the hope of a petition on the part of your enemy to pull down the majority."
"But think of Murphy's enjoyment," said the doctor, "in defending the seat, to say nothing of the bill of costs."
"You have me there, doctor," said Murphy; "a fair hit, I grant you; but see, the supper is on the table. To it, my lads; to it! and then a jolly glass to drink success to our friend Egan."
And glass after glass they did drink in all sorts and shapes of well-wishing toasts; in short, to have seen the deep interest those men took in the success of their friend, might have gladdened the heart of a philanthropist; though there is no knowing what Father Mathew, had he flourished in those times, might have said to their overflowing benevolence.
CHAPTER XVIII