Kelly hesitated. Larry was one of the quietest men in the district; but then he was also the man that the club had entered in the tournament for amateurs a few years before and he had carried off the light weight cup by beating three men in the finals. “I ain’t scrappin’ with no professionals,” growled Martin at length. “I ain’t no professional,” insinuated McCarty. “Let it drop, gents!” advised Jerry McGlory who had just come in. McGlory was the club’s president and he felt that in his office it behoved him to act the part of a peacemaker. He took the wrathful Kelly aside and was trying to soothe him when McGonagle entered upon his errand. “Somebody wants ye outside, Kelly,” announced Goose. “Go ahead out an’ see ’em,” begged McGlory, delighted. “Ye’ll feel better after ye come back.” Muttering under his breath, Kelly followed McGonagle down the steps, and after he had gone McGlory observed: “That lobster’s too gay! He’s got a notion he runs this outfit.” “Well, he’s got another t’ink,” said Murphy. “Say, us people made a foxy play when we turned down the fifty dollars his old man wanted to chip in toward gittin’ the pool table.” “’Lection’s comin’,” remarked Ferguson. “He t’ought he’d cop our support be that move.” “He don’t git no support o’ mine,” Murphy informed them. “I ain’t for no gent that pulls on both ends o’ the string. Le’me tell youse this,” rapping with his knuckles upon the piano top; “if Kelly scoops the nomination we’re a push o’ dead ones.” “He’s puttin’ his net out though,” affirmed Roddy Ferguson. “O’Connor told me that he’s got the ward committee fixed, an’ that the heelers’ll pull for him at the primaries.” “He’s got all the bums in the ward on his staff,” said McGlory. “He gits ’em out o’ jail when they’re pinched, an’ he’s loadin’ rum into them all day, over his bar.” “The Mozart Sangerbund give him an invitation to their last meetin’,” put in McCarty, “and he wanted Kerrigan to write him a speech. He’s makin’ a play for the German vote.” “I heard in City Hall, yesterday,” said Kerrigan, “that the Mayor offered him the indorsement of the other side again, if he could split our ticket. McQuirk was at the pow-wow and somebody slipped him a bunch of money. But say! if that’s right he’ll have a warm time delivering the goods.” “When is the delegate election, Murphy?” inquired McGlory. “About a month after our ball,” answered Larry. “Talkin’ about the ball,” remarked McCarty: “we won’t have Larkin to lead the march for us this time, eh?” “There’s a guy what knows the figures,” commented McGlory. “How’s he doin’ now?”