k,' he says, 'th'
war is over,' he says, 'an' we've settled down to th' ol' game,' he
says. 'They're no more heroes. All iv thim has gone to wurruk f'r th'
magazines. They're no more pathrites,' he says. 'They've got jobs as
gov'nors or ar-re lookin' f'r thim or annything else,' he says. 'All
th' prom'nint saviors iv their counthry,' he says, 'but mesilf,' he
says, 'is busy preparin' their definse,' he says. 'I have no definse,'
he says; 'but I'm where they can't reach me,' he says. 'Th' spoort is
all out iv th' job; an', if ye don't come in an' jine th' tilin masses
iv wage-wurrukers,' he says, 'ye won't even have th' credit iv bein'
licked in a gloryous victhry,' he says. 'So to th' woodpile with ye!'
he says; 'f'r ye can't go on cillybratin' th' Foorth iv July without
bein' took up f'r disordherly conduct,' he says.

"An' Aggynaldoo doesn't undherstand it. An' he gathers his Archery
Club ar-round him, an' says he: 'Fellow-pathrites,' he says, 'we've
been betrayed,' he says. 'We've been sold out without,' he says,
'gettin' th' usual commission,' he says. 'We're still heroes,' he
says; 'an' our pitchers is in th' pa-apers,' he says. 'Go in,' he
says, 'an' sthrike a blow at th' gay deceivers,' he says. 'I'll sell
ye'er lives dearly,' he says. An' th' Archery Club wint in. Th'
pathrites wint up again a band iv Kansas sojers, that was wanst heroes
befure they larned th' hay-foot-sthraw-foot, an' is now arnin' th'
wages iv a good harvest hand all th' year ar-round, an' 'd rather
fight than ate th' ar-rmy beef, an' ye know what happened. Some iv th'
poor divvles iv heroes is liberated fr'm th' cares iv life; an' th'
r-rest iv thim is up in threes, an' wishin' they was home, smokin' a
good see-gar with mother.

"An' all this because Aggynaldoo didn't hear th' whistle blow. He
thought th' boom was still on in th' hero business. If he'd come in,
ye'd be hearin' that James Haitch Aggynaldoo 'd been appointed
foorth-class postmasther at Hootchey-Kootchey; but now th' nex' ye
know iv him 'll be on th' blotther at th' polis station: 'James Haitch
Aggynaldoo, alias Pompydoor Jim, charged with carryin' concealed
weepins an' ray-sistin' an officer.' Pathriteism always dies when ye
establish a polis foorce."

"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'm kind iv sorry f'r th' la-ads with th'
bows an' arrows. Maybe they think they're pathrites."

"Divvle th' bit iv difference it makes what they think, so long as we
don't think so," said Mr. Doo