"I'm a socialist," he explained, "but don't say anything. Ed's against
'em."
The men filed back into the room, each with a freshly-lighted cigar in his
mouth, and the florid-faced man followed them and went out at the office
door.
"Well, so long, boys," he shouted heartily.
Ed went silently up the stairs to join the mother and boy, whose voices
could still be heard raised in outbursts of wrath from above as the men
took their former chairs along the wall.
"Well, Bill's sure all right," said the red-haired young man, evidently
expressing the opinion of the men in regard to the florid-faced man.
A small bent old man with sunken cheeks got up and walking across the room
leaned against the cigar case.
"Did you ever hear this one?" he asked, looking about.
Obviously no answer could be given and the bent old man launched into a
vile pointless anecdote of a woman, a miner, and a mule, the crowd giving
close attention and laughing uproariously when he had finished. The
socialist rubbed his hands together and joined in the applause.
"That was a good one, eh?" he commented, turning to Sam.
Sam, picking up his bag, climbed the stairway as the red-haired young man
launched into another tale, slightly less vile.
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