"I'm sure it is Perkins's loss," returned Thaddeus, "that you are not a personal friend of his." "It was," said the Irishman. "My name is Finn," he added, with an air which seemed to assume that Perkins would begin to tremble at the dreaded word; but Perkins did not tremble. He merely replied, "A very good name, Mr. Finn." "Oi t'ink so," assented Mr. Finn. "Ut's better nor Dinnis, me young fri'nd." Perkins assented to this proposition as though it was merely general, and had no particular application to the affairs of the moment. "I suppose, Mr. Finn," he observed, shortly, "that you were one of the earnest workers in the late campaign for Mr. Perkins?" "Was he elicted?" asked Finn, scornfully. "I believe not," began Thaddeus. "But--" "Thot's me answer to your quistion, sorr," said Finn, with dignity. "He'd 'a' had lamps befoor his house now, sorr, if he hadn't been gay wid his front dure." "Oh--he was gay with his front door, was he?" asked Perkins. "He was thot, an' not ony too careful uv his windy-shades," replied Finn. Perkins looked at him inquiringly. "Givin' me, Mike Finn, song an' dance about not bein' home, wid me fri'nds outside on the lawn watchin' him troo de windy, laffin' loike a hayeny." "Excuse me--like a what?" said Thaddeus. "A hayeny," repeated Mr. Finn. "Wan o' thim woild bastes as laffs at nothin' much. 'Is he home?' sez oi. 'Are yees a pershonal fri'nd?' says the gurl. 'Oi'm not,' sez oi. 'He ain't home,' says the gurl. 'Whin'll he be back?' says oi. 'Niver,' says she, shlammin' the dure in me face; and Mike Finn wid a certifikut uv election for um in his pocket!" "A certificate of election?" cried Perkins. "And he wouldn't see you?" "He would not." "You were to an extent the balance of power, then?" "That's what oi was," said Finn, enjoying what he thought was Perkins's dismay; for he knew well enough to whom he was talking. "Oi was the rale bonyfiday balance uv power. Oi've got foive sons, sorr, and ivery wan o' thim byes is conthracthors, or, what's as good, bosses uv gangs on public an' proivate works. There ain't wan uv thim foive byes as don't conthrol twinty-foive votes, an' there ain't wan uv 'em as don't moind what the ould mon says to um. Not wan, sorr. An' they resints the turnin' down uv their father." "That's as it should be," said Perkins.