Outside a cool October wind was whipping dead leaves and weed stalks along the pavements.

Neither Tiernan nor Kerrigan spoke, though they had come away together, until they were two hundred feet down the avenue toward Van Buren.
"Some talk, that, eh ?" commented Mr.Tiernan, eying Mr.Kerrigan in the flare of a passing gas-lamp.
"Sure.

That's the stuff they always hand out when they're up against it.

Pretty kind words, eh ?" "And after ten years of about the roughest work that's done, eh?
It's about time, what?
Say, it's a wonder he didn't think of that last June when the convention was in session.
"Tush! Mikey," smiled Mr.Kerrigan, grimly.

"You're a bad little boy.
You want your pie too soon.