Those of the guests who still
lingered at the table had pushed their chairs back or askew, and sat,
some a-straddle, some even with their feet on the cloth. John was
confabbing with half a dozen black-coats in a corner. Each held a
wineglass in his hand from which he sipped, while John, legs apart, did
all the talking, every now and then putting out his forefinger to prod
one of his hearers on the middle button of the waistcoat. It was some
time before he discovered the presence of his relatives; and Mahony had
leisure to admire the fashion in which, this corner-talk over, John
dispersed himself among the company; drinking with this one and that;
glibly answering questions; patting a glum-faced brewer on the back; and
simultaneously checking over, with an oily-haired agent, his
committee-meetings for the following days. His customary arrogance and
pompousness of manner were laid aside. For the nonce, he was a simple man
among men.
Then espying them, he hurried over, and rubbing his hands with pleasure
said warmly: "My dear Mahony, this is indeed kind! Jerry, my lad, how
do, how do? Still growing, I see! We'll make a fine fellow of you yet.--
Well, doctor! . . . we've every reason, I think, to feel satisfied with
the lie of the land."
But here he was snatched from them by an urgent request for a
pronouncement--"A quite informal word, sir, if you'll be so good,"--on
the vexed question of vote by ballot. And this being a pet theme of
John's, and a principle he was ready to defend through thick and thin,
he willingly complied.
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