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Thim is me orders, t'allow ixamination be th' veterinary, an' if 't w'u'd be anny comfort t' ye I will draw up a chair so ye can look all ye want to." The veterinary raised his sad eyes to Flannery's face and let them rest there a moment. "Much obliged," he said, but he did not look at the cat again. He went back to his headquarters.

He ate little, but he emptied the pot of hot coffee in record time. Then he came down to where I was trimming some rose-bushes. "W'u'd ye let me lie a bit on the hay?" he said. "Thin I'll do some more of the little shtove-shticks fer yeh. I'm feelin' none too brisk this mornin'." "Been sick?" I asked. "Naw, just a trrifle weery with trav'lin' an' losin' of sleep." Inside I hesitated.

He be a good lad to mend our housen so finely, and w'u'd ye think I ben't willin' to do his wish?" Noll was greatly encouraged at these signs of improvement, and mentally rejoiced, hoping to see this new ambition spread till the whole twelve houses were reclaimed from their present filth and wretchedness.

"'Not sthrong enough t' travel alone'!" he said with a chuckle. "If iver there was a sthrong cat 'tis that wan be this time, an' 't w'u'd be a waste av ixpinse t' hire a " Suddenly his face sobered. He glanced out of the back door at the square mile of hummocky sand and clay. "'Return cat be firrst trrain t' this office," he repeated blankly. He left his seat and went to the door and looked out.

'Tis an ixpriss company ye are workin' fer, an' not a cimitery. T' look at ye wan w'u'd think ye was nawthin' but a funeral!" "Sure I am," said Tommy. "'Tis as ye have said it, Flannery; I'm th' funeral." Flannery stuck out his under jaw, and his eyes blazed. For nothing at all he would have let Timmy have a fist in the side of the head, but what was the use?

'T is a signal ye c'u'd tell in th' darrk." He hurried to the back door. The cat was there, all right. A little deader than it had been, perhaps, but it was there on the step, long hair and all. "Hurroo!" shouted Flannery. "An' me thinkin' I w'u'd niver see it again! Can ye smell th' proof, Misther Inspictor? 'T is good sthrong proof fer ye! An' I sh'u'd have knowed it all th' while.

He jest as invidsible as nuffin'! An' who know but whut a great, big ghost bump right into him 'ca'se it can't see him? An' dat shore w'u'd scare dat li'l black boy powerful bad, 'ca'se yever'body knows whut a cold, damp pussonality a ghost is. So whin dat li'l black Mose go' outen de shanty at night, he keep he eyes wide open, you may be shore.

He jest as invidsible as nuffin'. An' who know' but whut a great, big ghost bump right into him 'ca'se it can't see him? An' dat shore w'u'd scare dat li'l' black boy powerful' bad, 'ca'se yever'body knows whut a cold, damp pussonality a ghost is. So whin dat li'l' black Mose go' outen de shanty at night, he keep' he eyes wide open, you may be shore.

No doubt ye have been referred to me for details iv the disturbin' rumours. Well, it's this wa-ay: I am in the service iv the comp'ny, and I dhraw me pay wid regularity, praise be, so that I w'u'd not for a moment think of questionin' the wisdom iv the policy iv me superiors " "That's right don't!" snapped Farwell. "Now, get me those telegrams, if there are any, and tell me what I want to know."

"Mebby there be some of these here 'edile' and 'egis' things comin' by ixpriss, and 't will be a foine thing t' know how t' spell thim whin th' con-sign-y puts in a claim fer damages, but if th' company is goin' t' carry many 'eponyms' and 'esophaguses' Mike Flannery will be lookin' for another job. And w'u'd you look at this wan!