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Updated: May 19, 2025
The Eighth Ward would have elected me; but Bobbie ruined that," said Perkins, ruefully. "But how?" cried Mrs. Perkins. "Have our children been out making campaign speeches for the other side?" "They have," assented Perkins. "They have indeed. You remember that man Jorrigan?" "The striker?" queried Mrs.
"Well, a man isn't going back on you because he can't kiss your whole family, is he?" asked Mrs. Perkins, apprehensively. "If that's the situation, I shall go to New York to-morrow." Perkins laughed heartily. "No, my dear," he said. "You are safe enough from that. But Jorrigan, when Bobbie refused, said, 'Well, young feller, I guess you don't know who I am? 'Yes, I do, said Bobbie. 'You are Mr.
Jorrigan, and Jorrigan was overjoyed; but Bobbie destroyed his good work by adding, 'Jorrigan the striker, and the striker's joy vanished. 'Who told you that? said he. 'Pop and he knows, said Bobbie.
He's also a balance of power, my dear. Jorrigan controls the Eighth Ward. That's the only reason I've let him in the house," said Thaddeus. "You've been very chummy with him, I must say," sniffed Mrs. Perkins. "Well, I've had to be," said the candidate. "That man is a power, and he knows it." "What's his business?" asked Mrs. Perkins. "Interference between capital and labor," replied Perkins.
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