Foley was short and square-jawed; Daily was big and brawny; and both carried themselves with much aggressiveness, swaggering into the hall, their convoys on their arms, with the air of men whose deeds were epic in the ward. “That’s a swell one wit’ Foley,” whispered a voice. “Who is she, Brennen?” “An old party rammer,” answered Brennen; “an’ she’s the star pivoter of Whalen’s Academy. Her an’ Bat Mahoney won the prize waltz at the Emmet Band’s picnic, Decoration Day.” “Her hair’s bleached,” remarked the other; “an’ that rouge on her face is the reddest t’ing that ever come down the pike.” The girl was taller than her escort; she was remarkably handsome, dressed richly, and held herself in a way that made the women whisper and the men stare. As they neared the gate, she laughing and showing her beautiful teeth and flashing her splendid eyes here and there, McGonagle leaned forward and whispered a few quick words in Murphy’s ear. “No!” exclaimed the latter, incredulously. “Sure t’ing! What are youse goin’ to do?” “Why, put out the flag!” Brennen suddenly craned his neck out of its circle of stiff linen, excitedly. “Murphy won’t take their tickets!” he breathed, “there’s goin’ to be a run in at the start!” All surged toward the gate; McGonagle whistled through his thumb and fore-finger; a policeman came looming along through the cigar smoke. “Stand back, gents,” requested he. He flourished his club airily, and measured Daily with his eye. “On’y three couple allowed at the gate at a time.” The crowd fell back disappointedly. The group at the gate were engaged in excited debate; Foley was describing aerial hieroglyphics with his clenched fist; the girl had let go his arm and was staring Murphy boldly in the eye. “You’ve insulted this lady!” declared Foley in a sharp high-pitched voice. “I didn’t insult nobody,” said Murphy. “Didn’t I flag her on the quiet? Nobody knowed it until youse made a holler.” “This is the rankest snap I ever stacked up against,” remarked the girl, tossing her head and rubbing the wrinkles out of her long gloves. “If I’d a-knowed it was a nasty-nice affair, I wouldn’t a-come!” “This ain’t the first time youse gave me the wrong end of it, Murphy,” said Foley, drawing back in such a way as to cause McGonagle to brace himself for the expected rush. “For the last time; does she go in, or is she barred?” “She’s barred!” said Murphy. “This ain’t no flash shine,” broke in McGonagle, “we’ve got our girls here to-night, and I, for one, won’t let mine dance on the same floor with her, and that goes!” “Push along, gents,” hinted the policeman, “inside or out; yer blockin’ the passage.” Daily jogged his companion’s elbow and whispered: “Don’t git leary; ye’ll queer Kelly if ye kick up a row, now. Give him a chance to work the gang what’s runnin’ the show. We can come back, ye know, when he’s done; and if youse wants to do business, then, with the guy on the door, why you kin go ahead.”