"He's one of them
reformers--always messin' into things."
"Maybe that's why he was at the court," observed Samuel.
"Sure thing! He's a professor of sociology an' such things, an' he
thinks he knows all about politics. But we handed him a few last
election--just you bet!"
"Who's 'we'?" asked Samuel.
"The organization," said Finnegan; "the Democrats, o' course. Them
reformers is always Republicans--the 'better element,' an' all that.
That means the rich guys--that have their own little grafts to work.
This perfessor was a great friend of old Henry Lockman--an' the old
man used to run this town with his little finger. But they had a big
strike here three years ago, and too many men got hit over the head.
So it'll be a long day before there's any more 'reform' in
Lockmanville."
"I see," said Samuel.
"They make a great howl about the saloons an' all the rest," added the
barkeeper. "But when the Republicans ran things, my boss paid his
little rake-off just the same, you can bet. But you needn't tell that
to the perfessor."
"I won't," said the boy.
"What you goin' to do now?" asked the other.
"I don't know. I guess I'll have to get something to eat first."
"You'll find the cheapest way is to buy a glass of beer and then feed
over there."
"No," said Samuel, startled. "I--I think I'd rather not do that."
"Well, so long," said Finriegan, with a laugh.
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