“Bryan,” said Mr. Clare, re-entering at this moment. He took his stand on the hearth-rug, and looked down upon his friend with a look that was half amused and all reverent; then he said, “I don’t wonder now at the success of ‘Prices.’ I understand it.” “Do ye, now?” said the priest, returning a glance in which sympathy was mingled with a comical embarrassment; for Father McClosky was exceedingly shy, not only of his own good works, but of having his dealings with one heretic known to another. Also he stood rather in awe of the keen, clear, logical brain opposite him. “I believe so,” replied Mr. Clare, laughing outright, “except in one point, and that a minor one. Is the present stock company nominally the same—of course I know it is not exactly—that owned the Maennerchor Club House twelve years ago?” “That’s aisely answered,” replied the priest, with an air of relief at which his friend laughed again. “It is, nominally. There was maybe twenty or a dozen shareholders at that time who wanted the club-house chiefly for their own recreation; for the most of them was rich men, and, so it paid expenses, they didn’t look for dividends. When Miss Sally took the care of it, and they began to see how things was going, they behaved mighty well; first, they reduced the par value of a share to five dollars, as we have it now, and gave every shareholder one vote and no more. And, shure, that’s fair enough,” continued the Father, with a conscientious desire to be logical whenever he could; “for av a rich man has twenty votes in a meeting of shareholders, why shouldn’t he vote twenty times for president?” “Because human nature is happily illogical, and seldom follows out false premises to their ultimate conclusions,” said Ernest Clare, with a gravity which was belied by the twinkle in his eye. “Oh, get out with your logic and your ultimate conclusions! It’s because the fellow that tried it on first would be mobbed, that’s why. Conclusions, indeed!” “Well, go on,” with a laugh; “what was the effect of manhood suffrage in this particular instance?” “The _ultimate_ effect—since ye like the word so well—is that they get five per cent on their money, and have their recreation just the same. For the club-house is mostly as it was, and, shareholders not necessarily belonging to the club, the members have their parlor, dining-room, and hall to themselves whenever they like. The only difference is that the hall is never rented to the public now; and on occasions of balls, concerts, and the like, they ain’t apt to shut out any regular patrons of ‘Prices’ who want to get in.” “Are any of the old shareholders now members of the board of managers?” “Four or five of them, and we’ve the same president and secretary. But the real business is transacted by the executive committee, three in number, and two constituting a quorum.” “It’s a flexible arrangement, at any rate.” “It’s beautiful,” said the priest with enthusiasm, “and works as easy as rolling off a log.”