now that
me father always varnished th' dongolas before he soaked thim overnight.
'Take no chances, Mike,' he used t' say t' me, 'always varnish thim
firrst. Some of thim is rubbery an' will not soak up wather, but some is
spongy, an' 'tis best t' varnish one an' all of thim."'

"Think of that now!" exclaimed Fagan with admiration. "Sure, but this
natural history is a wonderful science, Toole! To think that thim
animals was th' spongyhided dongola water goats of foreign lands, an'
used t' bein' varnished before each an' every bath! An' t' me they
looked no different from th' goats of me byehood! I was never cut out
for a goat keeper, Mike. An' me job on th' dump-cart is gone, too.
'Twill be hard times for Fagan."

"'Twill be hard times for Toole, too," said the little alderman, and
they walked on without speaking until Fagan reached his gate.

"Well, anny how," he said with cheerful philosophy, "'tis better t'
be us than to be thim dongola water goats--dead or alive. 'Tis not
too often I take a bath, Mike, but if I was wan of thim spongy-hided
dongolas an' had t' be varnished each time I got in me bath tub, I would
stop bathin' for good an' all."

He looked toward the house.

"I'll not worry," he said. "Maggie will be sad t' hear th' job is gone,
but she would have took it harder t' know her Tim was wastin' his time
varnishin' th' slab side of a spongy goat."

II. MR. BILLINGS'S POCKETS

On the sixteenth of June Mr. Rollin Billings entered his home at
Westcote very much later than usual, and stealing upstairs, like a thief
in the night, he undressed and dropped into bed. In two minutes he was
asleep, and it was no wonder, for by that time it was five minutes after
three in the morning, and Mr. Billings's usual bedtime was ten o'clock.
Even when he was delayed at his office he made it an invariable rule to
catch the nine o'clock train home.

When Mrs. Billings awoke the next--or, rather, that same--morning, she
gazed a minute at the thin, innocent face of her husband, and was in
the satisfied frame of mind that takes an unexpected train delay as
a legitimate excuse, when she happened to cast her eyes upon Mr.
Billings's coat, which was thrown carelessly over the foot of the bed.
Protruding from one of the side pockets was a patent nursing-bottle,
half full of milk. Instantly Mrs. Billings was out of bed and searching
Mr. Billings's other pockets. To her horror her search was fruitful.

In a vest pocke