out of politics. Av coorse, Tommy can't be tellin' what a foine mayor he'll make for himself; but Harry will say it, and more; and then at the meeting he'll ask Tommy any quistions that Paulsen will want answered or that he hears Paulsen will want; and Tommy will have his innings thin. Do you see? But now, wid your blethering ould cousin and her box, ye'll git him aff and maybe he'll not be back; there was a washout only yisterday on the road, and loike enough there'll be another; and Tommy'll be losing the mayor's office to git—"
"Oh, Pat, is it that bad?" cried the mother, clasping her hands. "Sure I'll drive to the depot and beg him to stay!"
She meant her words, and her hand was on the doorknob, but her husband stopped her. "Ye will not, Ellen," said he with an ironic chuckle, "for it's off already he is. Ye will set down and hope ye ain't done much harm sindin' him off!"
"And who would harm him, sure?"
"Well, there is Alderman Wade, who is after Paulsen from morning till night, pecking at him with 'Tommy is an Irishman, Tommy is shly, Tommy hates the Dutch'—you'll see—that's the way he gets at him, making him think Tommy wouldn't cross the street to save a German's life! And Paulsen has got a tremenjis lot of pull wid the Dutch, and that's the fact; he ain't, so far's I kin find out, he ain't opened the mouth of him yit whether it's for or whether it's agin Tommy. But Tommy best be round when he does—that's all."
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"'. . . IS IT THAT BAD?' CRIED THE MOTHER, CLASPING HER HANDS, . . ."
"But why would Alderman Wade be wanting to hurt Tommy? I mind well, whin you had the place down town, how he always had his drinks free, and he was always asking afther your foine young son at the university."
Old Patrick humped his shoulders, and muttered, "Things was different thin; I'm thinkin', meself, that he wants to be greased, and Tommy won't grease him!"
Mrs. Fitzmaurice, as innocent a soul as ever was sent into a wicked world, had lived too long with Patrick not to understand. She sighed. "Is he loike that, thin? I didn't think it. And is Mr. Paulsen the same?"
"I guess not"—with a short laugh—"you couldn't buy Paulsen any more than you could coax a mule with a greenback. Oh, he's honest, but he's obstinate; and he's like a mule that way too: you niver know which end of him is going to kick! Harry Lossing was tilling me he mistrusted he'd be fighting us."
"Well, you'll find Tommy'll match him," said the mother confidently, to which the father only grunted—being, however, like many husbands, secretly cheered by his wife's unreasoning hope.
But she, poor woman, staid awake all night, wondering whether indeed she had jeoparded her son's prospects by sending
