“Would you have us wipe them on our handkerchiefs? The towels were all gone!”
“’Twas the awful crowd did it; an’ ’twas only some saucers for the ice-cream.”
Mrs. O’Brien waved her hands, very clean, not very shapely, and worn by many an honest day’s toil, persuading and pleading for peace at once. “Sure,” says she, “if you’d wurrk at fairs you’d know that you can’t be doing things like you’d do them at home; and ’twas only for a minit they wiped the saucers with the paper napkins, clean tishy-paper napkins, Mrs. Orendorf; ’twas only two or three saucers got wiped with the newspaper, because the napkins was give out and they was shrieking and clamoring for saucers; and they’re terrible, them young girls! waving their hands and jumpin’ an’ squealin’. ‘Me first, Mrs. O’Brien!’ ‘It’s my turn, Mrs. O’Brien!’ ‘Oh, Mrs. O’Brien, wait on me. I’ve got six people haven’t had a bite in half an hour; and they’re so cross!’ Till your mind’s goin’! No doubt we’re makin’ money, but I’m for a smaller crowd an’ more good falein’.”
“It’s for der voting dey kooms,” grumbled the German woman, only half pacified. “Dot vas bad mistake haf dot votin’. Vot vas dot dirty Deutchman you call him do dot make you so mad?”
“Oh, it wasn’t so much”—Mrs. O’Brien was still bent on peace—“he jist telephoned to the next door an’ got the returns, as he called them, and had ’em posted up in his saloon. An’ if they was daughters of mine—I ain’t got anny daughters, praise God! for since I seen the way these waiters go on, I’m misdoubtin’ I niver could manage thim—but if they was daughters of mine, ’twould be the sorry day for me whin they’d their names posted up in a saloon!”
“Meine fader in der old country kept a saloon,” said the German woman, with extreme dryness of accent, “und does you mean to say vun vurd against Freda Berglund?”
“No, indade,” cried Mrs. O’Brien.
“And do you mean to say one word against Norah Murray?” a bolder partisan on the Celtic side struck in, with a determined air. Three or four voices murmured assent.
The German stood her ground. “I nefer seen her till yesterday”—thus without committing direct assault on the Murray supporters she avoided concession; “all I know of her is dot she nefer haf dot gold vatch!”
“Then you know more than we do. Norah’s ahead, and she’ll be more ahead this evening,” retorted a Murray voter; “there’s plenty more money to spend for old Ireland—ain’t there, ladies?”