8
o'clock
Ye'er mother does n't want it , does she ? No , nor ye'er sister Katie ? No , nor ye'er cousin , nor ye'er aunt ? All that iliction day means to thim is th ' old man goin ' off in th ' mornin ' with a light step an ' fire in his eye , an ' comin ' home too late at night with a dent in his hat , news-boys hollerin ' exthries with th ' news that fifty-four votes had been cast in th ' third precint in th ' sivinth ward at 8 o'clock , an ' Packy an ' Aloysius stealin ' bar ` ls fr 'm th ' groceryman f ' r th ' bone-fire . If they iver join ye an ' make up their minds to vote , they 'll vote . Ye bet they will . ' '' ` Ye see , 't was this way votin ' come about .