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Hynes' bottle, but Mr. Hynes remained sitting flushed and bare-headed on the table. He did not seem to have heard the invitation. "Good man, Joe!" said Mr. O'Connor, taking out his cigarette papers and pouch the better to hide his emotion. "What do you think of that, Crofton?" cried Mr. Henchy. "Isn't that fine? What?" Crofton said that it was a very fine piece of writing.
"Let bygones be bygones," said Mr. Henchy. "I admire the man personally. He's just an ordinary knockabout like you and me. He's fond of his glass of grog and he's a bit of a rake, perhaps, and he's a good sportsman. Damn it, can't we Irish play fair?" "That's all very fine," said Mr. Lyons. "But look at the case of Parnell now." "In the name of God," said Mr.
"To tell you my private and candid opinion," he said, "I think he's a man from the other camp. He's a spy of Colgan's, if you ask me. Just go round and try and find out how they're getting on. They won't suspect you. Do you twig?" "Ah, poor Joe is a decent skin," said Mr. O'Connor. "His father was a decent, respectable man," Mr. Henchy admitted. "Poor old Larry Hynes!
After the transfer the boy put his basket on his arm and asked: "Any bottles?" "What bottles?" said the old man. "Won't you let us drink them first?" said Mr. Henchy. "I was told to ask for the bottles." "Come back tomorrow," said the old man. "Here, boy!" said Mr. Henchy, "will you run over to O'Farrell's and ask him to lend us a corkscrew for Mr. Henchy, say. Tell him we won't keep it a minute.
It was just a little business matter," said Father Keon. "Thank you, indeed." He retreated from the doorway and Mr. Henchy, seizing one of the candlesticks, went to the door to light him downstairs. "O, don't trouble, I beg!" "No, but the stairs is so dark." "No, no, I can see.... Thank you, indeed." "Are you right now?" "All right, thanks.... Thanks." Mr.
Henchy, "where's the analogy between the two cases?" "What I mean," said Mr. Lyons, "is we have our ideals. Why, now, would we welcome a man like that? Do you think now after what he did Parnell was a fit man to lead us? And why, then, would we do it for Edward the Seventh?" "This is Parnell's anniversary," said Mr. O'Connor, "and don't let us stir up any bad blood.
I'm thinking seriously of becoming a City Father myself. What do you think? Would I do for the job?" Mr. O'Connor laughed. "So far as owing money goes...." "Driving out of the Mansion House," said Mr. Henchy, "in all my vermin, with Jack here standing up behind me in a powdered wig eh?" "And make me your private secretary, John." "Yes. And I'll make Father Keon my private chaplain.
"O, no, no, no!" said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips as if he were addressing a child. "Won't you come in and sit down?" "No, no, no!" said Father Keon, speaking in a discreet, indulgent, velvety voice. "Don't let me disturb you now! I'm just looking for Mr. Fanning...." "He's round at the Black Eagle," said Mr. Henchy. "But won't you come in and sit down a minute?" "No, no, thank you.
Now, I declare to God I didn't believe him." "What?" said Mr. Henchy and Mr. O'Connor. "He told me: 'What do you think of a Lord Mayor of Dublin sending out for a pound of chops for his dinner? How's that for high living? says he. 'Wisha! wisha, says I. 'A pound of chops, says he, 'coming into the Mansion House. 'Wisha! says I, 'what kind of people is going at all now?"
Lyons, "and Crofton and I out in the cold and rain looking for votes?" "Why, blast your soul," said Mr. Henchy, "I'd get more votes in five minutes than you two'd get in a week." "Open two bottles of stout, Jack," said Mr. O'Connor. "How can I?" said the old man, "when there's no corkscrew?" "Wait now, wait now!" said Mr. Henchy, getting up quickly. "Did you ever see this little trick?"
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