ways an' the traditions of your fathers!
There is been shenanigans goin' on! I'll find 'em!"

The president could not speak, with Timothy in full view. But then what
was practically a miracle took place. A diny popped out of a hole in
the turf. He looked interestedly about. He was all of three inches
long, with red eyes and a blue tail, and in every proportion he was a
miniature of the extinct dinosaurs of Earth. But he was an improved
model. The dinies of Eire were fitted by evolution--or Satan--to plague
human settlers. They ate their crops, destroyed their homes, devoured
their tools, and when other comestibles turned up they'd take care of
them, too.

This diny surveyed its surroundings. The presidential mansion looked
promising. The diny moved toward it. But Timothy--nap plans
abandoned--flung himself at the diny like the crack of a whip. The diny
plunged back into its hole. Timothy hurtled after it in pursuit. He
disappeared.

The president of Eire breathed. He'd neglected that matter for some
minutes, it seemed. He heard a voice continuing, formidably:

"And I know ye'll try to hide the shenanigans that've destroyed all the
sacrifices Earth's made to have Eire a true Erse colony, ready for Erse
lads and colleens to move to and have room for their children and their
grandchildren too. I know ye'll try! But unless I do find out--not
another bit of help will this colony get from Earth! No more tools! No
more machinery that ye can't have worn out! No more provisions that ye
should be raisin' for yourselves! Your cold-storage plant should be
bulgin' with food! It's near empty! It will not be refilled! And even
the ship that we pay to have stop here every three months, for mail--no
ship!"

"It's the dinies," said the president feebly. "They're a great trouble
to us, sir. They're our great handicap."

"Blather and nonsense!" snapped Sean O'Donohue. "They're no bigger than
mice! Ye could've trapped 'em! Ye could've raised cats! Don't tell me
that fancy-colored little lizards could hinder a world especially set
aside by the intercession of St. Patrick for the Erse people to thrive
on! The token's plain! There's no snakes! And with such a sign to go
by, there must've been shenanigans goin' on to make things go wrong!
And till those shenanigans are exposed an' stopped--there'll be no more
help from Earth for ye blaggards!"

He stamped his way into the presidential mansion. The door slammed
shut. Moira, his grandda