I'll bet it's some other girl you
are thinking about. All right. Why don't you go get her if you want
her? Take your arm away, if you please."

"I'll tell you then," said Andy, wisely, "but I guess you won't
understand it exactly. You've heard of Mike Sullivan, haven't you?
'Big Mike' Sullivan, everybody calls him."

"No, I haven't," said Maggie. "And I don't want to, if he makes you
act like this. Who is he?"

"He's the biggest man in New York," said Andy, almost reverently.
"He can about do anything he wants to with Tammany or any other old
thing in the political line. He's a mile high and as broad as East
River. You say anything against Big Mike, and you'll have a million
men on your collarbone in about two seconds. Why, he made a visit
over to the old country awhile back, and the kings took to their
holes like rabbits.

"Well, Big Mike's a friend of mine. I ain't more than deuce-high in
the district as far as influence goes, but Mike's as good a friend
to a little man, or a poor man as he is to a big one. I met him
to-day on the Bowery, and what do you think he does? Comes up and
shakes hands. 'Andy,' says he, 'I've been keeping cases on you.
You've been putting in some good licks over on your side of the
street, and I'm proud of you. What'll you take to drink?" He takes a
cigar, and I take a highball. I told him I was going to get married
in two weeks. 'Andy,' says he, 'send me an invitation, so I'll keep
in mind of it, and I'll come to the wedding.' That's what Big Mike
says to me; and he always does what he says.

"You don't understand it, Maggie, but I'd have one of my hands
cut off to have Big Mike Sullivan at our wedding. It would be the
proudest day of my life. When he goes to a man's wedding, there's a
guy being married that's made for life. Now, that's why I'm maybe
looking sore to-night."

"Why don't you invite him, then, if he's so much to the mustard?"
said Maggie, lightly.

"There's a reason why I can't," said Andy, sadly. "There's a reason
why he mustn't be there. Don't ask me what it is, for I can't tell
you."

"Oh, I don't care," said Maggie. "It's something about politics, of
course. But it's no reason why you can't smile at me."

"Maggie," said Andy, presently, "do you think as much of me as you
did of your--as you did of the Count Mazzini?"

He waited a long time, but Maggie did not reply. And then, suddenly
she leaned against his shoulder and began to cry--to cry and shake
with so