"
Mike leaped to his feet as though a spring had suddenly uncoiled
beneath him, waving his arms in wild excitement, and dancing about on
his short legs.
"Two dollars an' sixty cints! Did ye hear that, now? For the love of
Hivin! an' the union wages three sixty! Ye 're a dommed scab, an' it's
meself that 'll wallup ye just for luck. It's crazy Oi am to do the
job. What wud the loikes of ye work for Misther Hicks for?"
Swanson's impassive face remained imperturbable; he stroked the
moustaches dangling over the corners of his dejected mouth.
"Two tollar saxty cint."
Mike glared at him, and then at the girl, his own lips puckering.
"Bedad, Oi belave the poor cr'ater do n't know anny betther. Shure, 't
is not for an O'Brien to be wastin' his toime thryin' to tache the
loikes of him the great sacrets of thrade. It wud be castin' pearls
afore swine, as Father Kinny says. Did iver ye hear tell of the
Boible, now?"
"Ay ban Lutheran."
"An' what's that? It's a Dimocrat Oi am, an' dom the O'Brien that's
annything else.
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