"Humph! A dollar won't last forever."

"No. But I've got the promise of a job. There was a gentleman there--
Professor Stewart, from the college."

"Hully gee!" said Finnegan. "I know that guy. A little runt with a
black beard?"

"I guess so," said Samuel dubiously.

"I seen his pitcher in the paper," said the other. "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."