"O, don't stir, Jack, don't stir," said Mr. Henchy.
He nodded curtly to Mr. Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old man vacated.
"Did you serve Aungier Street?" he asked Mr. O'Connor.
"Yes," said Mr. O'Connor, beginning to search his pockets for memoranda.
"Did you call on Grimes?"
"I did."
"Well? How does he stand?"
"He wouldn't promise. He said: 'I won't tell anyone what way I'm going to vote.' But I think he'll be all right."
"Why so?"
"He asked me who the nominators were; and I told him. I mentioned Father Burke's name. I think it'll be all right."
Mr. Henchy began to snuffle and to rub his hands over the fire at a terrific speed. Then he said:
"For the love of God, Jack, bring us a bit of coal. There must be some left."
The old man went out of the room.
"It's no go," said Mr. Henchy, shaking his head. "I asked the little shoeboy, but he said: 'O, now, Mr. Henchy, when I see the work going on properly I won't forget you, you may be sure.' Mean little tinker! 'Usha, how could he be anything else?"
"What did I tell you, Mat?" said Mr. Hynes, "Tricky Dicky Tierney."
