ut, faith, Dinnis was back at
his reg'lar game before th' week was out, an', afther a month or two,
whin Hogan had to get th' tayspoons out iv soak, he says to th' kid,
he says, 'I thought ye was goin' to brace up,' he says, 'an' here
ye're burnin' up ye'er money,' he says. 'Didn't ye promise to invist
two dollars ivry month?' he says. 'I'm doin' it,' says Dinnis. 'I've
kept me wurrud.' 'An' what are ye invistin' it in?' says Hogan. 'In
lotthry tickets,' says th' imp'dent kid."

While delivering these remarks, Mr. Dooley was peeping over his
glasses at Mr. McKenna, who was engaged in a struggle with the
machine. He dropped a nickel and it rattled down the slot, but it did
not open the door.

"Doesn't it open?" said Mr. Dooley.

"It does not."

"Shake it thin," said Mr. Dooley. "Something must be wrong."

Mr. McKenna shook the machine when he inserted the next nickel, but
there was no compensatory flow of coins from the door.

"Perhaps the money is bad," suggested Mr. Dooley. "It won't open f'r
bad money."

Thereupon he returned to his newspaper, observing which Mr. McKenna
drew from his pocket a nickel attached to a piece of string and
dropped it into the slot repeatedly. After a while the door popped
open, and Mr. McKenna thrust in his hand expectantly. There was no
response, and he turned in great anger to Mr. Dooley.

"There ain't any money there," he said.

"Ye're right, Jawn," responded Mr. Dooley. "If ye expect to dhraw anny
coin fr'm that there masheen, ye may call on some iv ye'er rough
frinds down town f'r a brace an' bit an' a jimmy. Jawn, me la-ad, I
see th' nickel with th' string before; an', to provide again it, I
improved th' masheen. Thim nickels ye dhropped in are all in th'
dhrawer iv that there table, an' to-morrow mornin' ye may see me
havin' me hair cut be means iv thim. An' I'll tell ye wan thing, Jawn
McKenna, an' that's not two things, that if ye think ye can come up
here to Ar-rchey Road an' rob an honest man, by gar, ye've made th'
mistake iv ye'er life. Goowan, now, before I call a polisman."

Mr. McKenna stopped at the door only long enough to shake his fist at
the proprietor, who responded with a grin of pure contentment.

WHEN THE TRUST IS AT WORK.

"Which d'ye think makes th' best fun'ral turnout, th' A-ho-aitches or
th' Saint Vincent de Pauls, Jawn?" asked Mr. Dooley.

"I don't know," said Mr. McKenna. "Are you thinking of leaving us?"

"Faith, I am not," said Mr.