“Git into yer rags, Murphy,” cried he, “yer wanted.” “Is it about Kelly an’ Hogan?” asked Larry. “I ain’t no witness. I didn’t see the scrap.” “No, it’s yer gran’father; he’s a cashin’ in, an’ wants to see youse. Me mother jist told me.” Larry was out on the floor like a shot, pulling on his clothes and talking incoherently. “I kin hear the song they’ll sing,” said he. “They’ll pull me into rags; ain’t that right, Larkin? Where’s me collar buttons?” “Look in yer other shirt,” Jimmie was also up, and dressing rapidly. Murphy found the missing articles and resumed: “They’ll say I wus on’y waitin’ fer a chance to get next to the gilt.” The thought seemed to anger him and he glared at his friends. “But it ain’t so,” he cried, “so help me God, it ain’t! I don’t want the coin; I’ve got a job, ain’t I? And I’ve went up against it this far, alone, an’ I kin go the rest o’ the distance, too.” He turned to the others, an appeal in his voice. “Did I ever make a play? Speak out, did I?” “Sure not,” said McGonagle. “Yer raw there, Murphy,” said Larkin. “If youse hadn’t been afeared o’ what people’d say the old man’d shook yer hand long ago.” Larry drew in the slack of his suspenders and closed the catch with a snap. He looked at Larkin in surprise; this was a thought that had never struck him. “D’ye t’ink so?” was all he said. “I cert’ny do. I often seen youse brush elbows with him on the street, and him turn and look after ye. He’d a-spoke to ye if youse had give him on’y half a chance, see?” “Didn’t he have a chance when I was a kid? Didn’t he have a chance when me father died and the neighbours in the alley had to take up a collection to bury him? Did he do anyt’ing for me then? Not on yer life, he didn’t! He let ’em put me in a Home.” “But, say, that wuz a dead long time ago, ain’t that right? If youse put a stick o’ wood in the stove it’ll burn hard at first, won’t it--but it’ll burn out at last, eh? The old one was leary on yer father then; but, say, take it from me, the blaze went down long ago, and it’s bin a kid game ever since; neither one o’ youse’d speak first.” Larry buttoned up his square-cut sack coat and looked at his tie in the little glass near the stairway. “That might be all right,” said he; “but look at the time he--” here he stopped short and then added: “I don’t want to knock. I promised that I wouldn’t and it’s too late to begin now.” Chapter IV “_When yer flat on yer back, wit’ a doctor as referee an a train’d nurse holdin’ the towel, why it’s up t’ youse, Cull, it’s up t’ youse!_” CHIP NOLAN’S REMARKS. A RED-FACED, bare-armed woman opened a door in Murphy’s court and threw a pan of garbage into the gutter. Her next door neighbour was walking up and down the narrow strip of sidewalk, hushing the cry of a weazened baby. “Is Jamsie not well, Mrs. Burns?” inquired the red-faced woman.