"Nothing was ever said to me about any share," said Billy truthfully.
"We occasionally prefer to leave something to the imagination."
"It beats leaving it to the taxpayer," smiled Billy.
"Sure, sure."
"But my share you were speaking of, Tip," prompted Bill. "What is this share—large, small or indifferent?"
"That depends," replied O'Gorman cadgily.
"On the weather, or some one's generosity?"
Was there mirth or something sinister in the gray eyes? Tip O'Gorman couldn't be sure. But Lord, there was no cause for apprehension. He'd been making himself unnecessary worry. Bill Wingo was too easy-going and good-natured to hold out on the boys. He was just making a play for his legitimate share. That was only right. Not that Tip had intended in the beginning that Bill should have his legitimate share. These politicians!
"You see, Bill, it's thisaway," said Tip. "Some years the party makes more than other years, and——"
"And the years it makes the most," insisted Bill, "are the years I make the most. Is that it?"