"What other tinker?" said Mr. Hynes.

"Colgan," said the old man scornfully.

"It is because Colgan's a working--man you say that? What's the
difference between a good honest bricklayer and a publican--eh? Hasn't
the working-man as good a right to be in the Corporation as anyone
else--ay, and a better right than those shoneens that are always hat in
hand before any fellow with a handle to his name? Isn't that so, Mat?"
said Mr. Hynes, addressing Mr. O'Connor.

"I think you're right," said Mr. O'Connor.

"One man is a plain honest man with no hunker-sliding about him. He goes
in to represent the labour classes. This fellow you're working for only
wants to get some job or other."

"Of course, the working-classes should be represented," said the old
man.

"The working-man," said Mr. Hynes, "gets all kicks and no halfpence. But
it's labour produces everything. The workingman is not looking for fat
jobs for his sons and nephews and cousins. The working-man is not going
to drag the honour of Dublin in the mud to please a German monarch."

"How's that?" said the old man.

"Don't you know they want to present an address of welcome to Edward
Rex if he comes here next year? What do we want kowtowing to a foreign
king?"

"Our man won't vote for the address," said Mr. O'Connor. "He goes in on
the Nationalist ticket."

"Won't he?" said Mr. Hynes. "Wait till you see whether he will or not. I
know him. Is it Tricky Dicky Tierney?"

"By God! perhaps you're right, Joe," said Mr. O'Connor. "Anyway, I wish
he'd turn up with the spondulics."

The three men fell silent. The old man began to rake more cinders
together. Mr. Hynes took off his hat, shook it and then turned down the
collar of his coat, displaying, as he did so, an ivy leaf in the lapel.

"If this man was alive," he said, pointing to the leaf, "we'd have no
talk of an address of welcome."

"That's true," said Mr. O'Connor.

"Musha, God be with them times!" said the old man. "There was some life
in it then."

The room was silent again. Then a bustling little man with a snuffling
nose and very cold ears pushed in the door. He walked over quickly to
the fire, rubbing his hands as if he intended to produce a spark from
them.

"No money, boys," he said.

"Sit down here, Mr. Henchy," said the old man, offering him his chair.

"O, don't stir, Jack, don't stir," said Mr. Henchy

He nodded curtly to Mr. Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old
man vacat