This eloquent discharge opened the floodgates of enthusiasm again, and the election was carried with thundering unanimity.  Then arose a storm of cries: 

“Wet them down!  Wet them down!  Give them a drink!”

Glasses of whisky were handed to the twins.  Luigi waves his aloft, then brought it to his lips; but Angelo set his down.  There was another storm of cries.

“What’s the matter with the other one?” “What is the blond one going back on us for?” “Explain!  Explain!”

The chairman inquired, and then reported: 

“We have made an unfortunate mistake, gentlemen.  I find that the Count Angelo Capello is opposed to our creed—­is a teetotaler, in fact, and was not intending to apply for membership with us.  He desires that we reconsider the vote by which he was elected.  What is the pleasure of the house?”

There was a general burst of laughter, plentifully accented with whistlings and catcalls, but the energetic use of the gavel presently restored something like order.  Then a man spoke from the crowd, and said that while he was very sorry that the mistake had been made, it would not be possible to rectify it at the present meeting.  According to the bylaws, it must go over to the next regular meeting for action.  He would not offer a motion, as none was required.  He desired to apologize to the gentlemen in the name of the house, and begged to assure him that as far as it might lie in the power of the Sons of Liberty, his temporary membership in the order would be made pleasant to him.

This speech was received with great applause, mixed with cries of: 

“That’s the talk!” “He’s a good fellow, anyway, if he is a teetotaler!” “Drink his health!” “Give him a rouser, and no heeltaps!”

Glasses were handed around, and everybody on the platform drank Angelo’s health, while the house bellowed forth in song: 

      For he’s a jolly good fel-low,
      For he’s a jolly good fel-low,
      For he’s a jolly good fe-el-low,
      Which nobody can deny.

Tom Driscoll drank.  It was his second glass, for he had drunk Angelo’s the moment that Angelo had set it down.  The two drinks made him very merry—­almost idiotically so, and he began to take a most lively and prominent part in the proceedings, particularly in the music and catcalls and side remarks.

The chairman was still standing at the front, the twins at his side.  The extraordinarily close resemblance of the brothers to each other suggested a witticism to Tom Driscoll, and just as the chairman began a speech he skipped forward and said, with an air of tipsy confidence, to the audience: 

“Boys, I move that he keeps still and lets this human philopena snip you out a speech.”

The descriptive aptness of the phrase caught the house, and a mighty burst of laughter followed.

Luigi’s southern blood leaped to the boiling point in a moment under the sharp humiliation of this insult delivered in the presence of four hundred strangers.  It was not in the young man’s nature to let the matter pass, or to delay the squaring of the account.  He took a couple of strides and halted behind the unsuspecting joker.  Then he drew back and delivered a kick of such titanic vigor that it lifted Tom clear over the footlights and landed him on the heads of the front row of the Sons of Liberty.