ille, the secretaries of three unions of which
the first numbered fourteen members, the second twenty-four, and the
third only one. Agaric showed extreme cleverness at this interview.

"Gentlemen," said he, "you and I have not, in most respects, the same
political and social views, but there are points in which we may come
to an understanding. We have a common enemy. The government exploits you
and despises us. Help us to overthrow it; we will supply you with
the means so far as we are able, and you can in addition count on our
gratitude."

"Fork out the tin," said Dagobert.

The Reverend Father placed on the table a bag which the distiller of
Conils had given him with tears in his eyes.

"Done!" said the three companions.

Thus was the solemn compact sealed.

As soon as the monk had departed, carrying with him the joy of having
won over the masses to his cause, Dagobert, Tronc, and Balafille
whistled to their wives, Amelia, Queenie, and Matilda, who were waiting
in the street for the signal, and all six holding each other's hands,
danced around the bag, singing:

J'ai du bon pognon,
Tu n'l'auras pas Chatillon!
Hou! Hou! la calotte!

And they ordered a salad-bowl full of warm wine.

In the evening all six went through the street from stall to stall
singing their new song. The song became popular, for the detectives
reported that every day showed an increase of the number of workpeople
who sang through the slums:

J'ai du bon pognon;
Tu n'l'auras pas Chatillon!
Hou! Hou! la calotte!

The Dracophil agitation made no progress in the provinces. The pious
Agaric sought to find the cause of this, but was unable to discover it
until old Cornemuse revealed it to him.

"I have proofs," sighed the monk of Conils, "that the Duke of Ampoule,
the treasurer of the Dracophils, has brought property in Porpoisia with
the funds that he received for the propaganda."

The party wanted money. Prince des Boscenos had lost his portfolio in a
brawl and he was reduced to painful expedients which were repugnant to
his impetuous character. The Viscountess Olive was expensive. Cornemuse
advised that the monthly allowance of that lady should be diminished.

"She is very useful to us," objected the pious Agaric.

"Undoubtedly," answered Cornemuse, "but she does us an injury by ruining
us."

A schism divided the Dracophils. Misunderstandings reigned in their
councils. Some wished that in accordance