“Yis; I loaned him enough till buy his milk route, a year since, an’ divil the cint do I iver expect till see av it again!” Larry crossed one leg over the other, and clasped his hands comfortably about his knee. “I kin put youse next to a way to collect every cent, interest and all,” he informed O’Hara. The second-hand dealer’s eyes snapped with interest. But he said, doubtfully: “How can yez do that? Sure, nayther av thim have a cint till bless thimselves wid!” Larry leaned forward and began to explain away the other’s doubts. He talked straight to the point and in a few moments O’Hara brightened up wonderfully. “I’ll see Clancy at wanst!” exclaimed he. “But there’s somethin’ else,” said Larry. “There’s Rosie and Larkin; what about them?” “Arrah, what have they till do wid it?” “Just as much as the others. Youse’re got to say ‘yes’ to them or you’ll slip yer trolley.” “Hell till yez sowl!” cried O’Hara. “Is it a girl av mine marry that dirty Derry spawn av the divil!” “Keep yer shirt on,” advised Larry, evenly. “Don’t make any wild swings. Money’s money, O’Hara; and ye must make good or youse don’t see a dollar.” O’Hara spluttered with rapidly evaporating wrath; and at length he cooled down sufficiently to say: “Yez are in the Church yezsilf, Larry; an’ ye know that the clargy do be down on mixed marriages.” “Say,” said Larry, getting down from the counter and buttoning up his coat, “youse might as well git yer money back by doin’ what I ask ye to do. Rosie’s twenty-one, and she’ll marry Larkin some o’ these days, anyhow. Speak quick; is it yes or no; I’ve got to see the delegates afore the convention opens.” O’Hara hesitated for a moment; then he burst out. “I’ll not lose me bit av hard arned money till save the trollop! Iv she wants till make her bed so, why lave her lie in it, an’ divil do her good wid it!” Chapter XXI “_He stood for Dooley, and for Dooley cast his vote, I stood for Conroy, as did Hooly, There was Fagan and O’Ragan, Flannigan and Hagan, All bound to kick the pants off Michael Dooley._” BALLADS OF BACK STREETS. IN the parlour of the Precinct Club, McQuirk was just concluding an interview with the political manager and lobbyist of the Motor Traction Company. “McGlory,” said the lobbyist, “mus’n’t think he’s too big a fish. Some other people that I know of will give the administration as good a rake-off, and be glad of the chance.” He got upon his feet, as their conference was over and shook McQuirk encouragingly by the hand. “Just send for him, and talk things over. Alex’s got good sense; he’ll see the point.” “I don’t think he’d come,” said McQuirk, “so I’ll go over and see _him_.” “All right,” said the other, “do as you think best. And, say, how’s Conlin doing with the vote in his division?” McQuirk compressed his lips. “Bad,” returned he. “They separated him from it, clean.”