"What is th' matter with
thim?"
"They do look sick," agreed Fagan, breaking the bad news
gently. "I should say they look mighty sick, Dugan. If they
looked anny sicker, I would be afther lookin' for a place t' bury
thim in. An' I am lookin' for th' place now."
As the truth dawned on the mind of the big mayor, he lost his
firm look and sank into a chair. This was the last brick pulled
from under his structure of hopes. His head sank upon his breast
and for many minutes he was silent, while his aides stood abashed
and ill at ease. At last he raised his head and stared at Toole,
more in sorrow than in resentfulness.
"Mike," he said, "Mike Toole! What in th' worrld made ye soak
thim dongolas?"
"Dugan," pleaded Toole, laying his hand on the big mayor's arm.
"Dugan, old man, don't look at me that way. There was nawthin'
else t' do but soak thim dongolas. Many's th' time I have seen me
old father soakin' th' young dongolas t' limber thim up for
swimmin'. 'If iver ye have to do with dongolas, Mike,' he used t'
say t' me, 'soak thim well firrst.
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