The enthusiasm that greeted this statement shook the walls. Daily, Foley, and a select circle of kindred spirits added no little volume to it. They rapturously patted the speaker on the back and beat the bar with their glasses, for each had a five dollar note tucked snugly away in his pocket and felt in duty bound to stir up the promised amount of enthusiasm. The outburst elated the selectman; his voice was husky with drink, but he climbed upon a chair and plunged into a speech. “The fellys that are again’ me,” declared he, “say that I am not a Dimmycrat, an’ would have yez vote to bate me. But whin the day comes I’ll show thim what the people of the ward t’ink, because the dillygates’ll be there that’ll name me in spoite av thim!” He forgot his protestation of a few minutes before that he was out for a good time, and proceeded to make a bid for his hearers’ support at the primaries; Daily and his henchmen were punctuating his remarks by salvos of applause, when Laughlin summoned the orator into the entry. “Hello, Phil,” Kelly greeted the sergeant, “sure an’ it’s glad till see yez I am; but divil take ye, cud yez not wait till I got through! I had ’em jist where I wanted thim; I wur makin’ votes by the dozen.” “It’s a slashin’ good game for you,” grumbled the sergeant; “but look at my end of it! You load ’em up with booze--they’ll fight--my men’ll pull ’em, an’ I’ll have to hold ’em till Moran kin give’m a hearin’ in the mornin’. Then what? There’s lots of fellows from my division here, an’ I must carry that division, Kelly, I must carry it, or lose me job; that’s just how I stand. An’ if I put me people away in the cooler how am I goin’ to do any carryin’, eh?” “Tut, tut, man dear, I must make meself solid wid the gang av young fellys. Sure a drop av drink’ll do thim no harm, Phil; it’ll make thim feel good, that’s all.” The uproar raised by Daily and his friends and Kelly’s display of ready money had captured both the rowdy and the frothy elements. But the popular young men--the members of the club for example--held aloof; and it was these that Kelly was working for. “The stiff!” exclaimed Jerry McGlory, as Kelly came back into the barroom; “he t’inks if he blows his coin over the bar we’ll fall in line.” “Look at Mart, over there,” said McCarty, “he’s looking black about something.” “He was backcappin’ Murphy a while ago. He’s half lit up, and he’ll say somethin’ to Larry afore the night’s over, and Larry’ll slam him.” It was McGonagle that spoke, and a moment later he added: “Here he comes over! Play foxy, gents; don’t give him no excuse for bother, see?” Young Kelly approached, and with him were Daily and Foley. “How are youse, gents?” saluted Martin. “It’s the old man’s treat; won’t youse have somethin’?” “We’re on the floor committee,” said McCarty, “an’ we ain’t touchin’ it to-night.” Martin sneered; Daily heaved his bulging chest contemptuously and coughed. It was Foley that spoke.