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Th' wather inspictor, that used to take a dhrink an' a seegar an' report me two pipes less thin I have, turned me in las' week f'r a garden hose an' a ploonge bath. He's rayformed. Th' wave iv rayform has sthruck, an' we're all goin' around now with rubbers on.
But fr'm now on ye can flaunt ye'er teeth in th' face iv anny inspictor. Ye don't have to declare thim. Ye don't have to put thim in th' bottom iv ye'er thrunk. Ye don't have to have thim chalked or labelled befure ye get off th' dock. Ye don't have to hand a five to th' inspictor an' whisper: 'I've got a few bicuspids that I picked up while abroad.
'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.
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