him a congrussman! That 's what he 's done fer me! That me brother Mike. I know 'm. An' I 'll tell what I know. He 'll niver buy me up with none of his gove'mint jobs."
The girl was watching him curiously. His wife had made a gesture of resignation and settled back in her seat.
"Well," Barney egged him on, "he got you out from Ireland, did n't he? If what Tim says 's true, it 's a good place to come from."
The old man turned on him. "I was well enough in Ireland. Why did n't he lave me there?" He caught the girl's interested eyes. "But no!" he cried to her. "He must sind the money fer me passage, an' a letter full o' lies fer to draw me on. I was to come out an' make me for-tune with 'm. An' that 's foorty years ago—an' here I am, five years older than 'm—an' him a congrussman, d' yeh see! He 's got himself made a congrussman, an' he 's got me a job trimmin' a lamp on a rock up the river yander, on a wage that wud n't fill the bowl of his pipe. There 's the sum an' substance of all his boold promises, an' his 'Sind Nick out to me. We 'll make his for-tune!'"
"Take shame!" his wife said. "Yeh 've been at the drink again, er yeh 'd not talk so to a stranger."
He wagged his head at her, with an effect of repeating and insisting on all that he had said. "That 's the talk! That 's the talk that he had to his tongue when he first tried to chate me out o' me partnership in the saloon. 'Faith,' I says, 'an' what 's the drink fer,
