"Seems as if he orter give the password," drawled Bill.
"Right you are, pardner," said Hi, springing to the door and waiting in
delighted expectation for his friend's lead.
Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I have
no doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to speak.
"Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks--"
"Go on!" yelled his friends from the dark corner. "Hear! hear!"
"An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot ain't
mean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them as runs the
shop don't seem to want us fellers round too much."
Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, muttering
angrily: "Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch."
"But," went on Bill, slowly, "I guess I've been on the wrong track.
I've been a-cherishin' the opinion" ["Hear! hear!" yelled his admirers],
"cherishin' the opinion," repeated Bill, "that these fellers," pointing
to Robbie, "was stuck on religion, which I ain't much myself, and reely
consarned about the blocking ov the devil, which The Pilot says can't be
did without a regular Gospel factory. O' course, it tain't any biznis
ov mine, but if us fellers was reely only sot on anything condoocin',"
["Hear! hear!" yelled Hi, in ecstasy], "condoocin'," repeated Bill
slowly and with relish, "to the good ov the Order" (Bill was a
brotherhood man), "I b'lieve I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cud
per'aps be got.
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