"Didn't Father Kelly do anything about it?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"No," replied Mr. Dooley. "There was some expicted she'd be read fr'm th' altar at high mass, but she wasn't."
A BIT OF HISTORY.
Mr. McKenna found Mr. Dooley standing at the end of his bargain counter with the glasses on the tip of his nose. He was in deep contemplation of a pile of green paper which he was thumbing over.
"Jawn," said he, as Mr. McKenna walked over and looked on curiously, "d'ye know a good man that I cud thrust to remodel th' shop?"
"And what's got into you?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"Im goin' to have two large mirrors put on th' side an' wan below. Thin I'm goin' to have th' ceilin' painted green, an' a bull-yard table put in th' back room. 'Twill be a place to par'lyze ye whin it is through with."
"And what 'll pay for it?" asked Mr. McKenna, in blank amazement.
"This," said Mr. Dooley, whacking the pile before him. "Here's twinty thousand dollars iv th' bonds iv th' raypublic. They bear inthrest at twinty-five per cint; an' they're signed be Xavier O'Malley, Pagan O'Leary (th' wicked man), an' O'Brien, th' threeasurer. Me cousin Mike put thim up with me f'r a loan iv five. He wurruked in th' threeasurer's office; an', whin th' polis broke up th' Irish rivolution, he put on his coat an' stuck a month's bond issue in his pocket. 'They'll come in handy wan day,' he says; for he was a philosopher, if he did take a dhrop too much. Whin he give me th' bonds, he says, says he, 'Hol' to thim,' he says, 'an' some time or other they'll make a rich man iv ye.' Jawn, I feel th' time has come. Cleveland's on th' rampage; an', if Ireland ain't a raypublic befure a month, I'll give ye these here documents f'r what I paid on thim. I have me information fr'm Hinnissy, an' Hinnissy have it fr'm Willum Joyce, an' ye know how close Joyce is to Finerty. Hinnissy was in last night. 'Well,' says I, 'what's th' news?' I says. 'News?' says he. 'They'se on'y wan thing talked about,' he says. 'We're goin' to have a war with England,' he says. 'An' th' whole Irish army has inlisted,' he says. 'Has Finerty gone in?' says I. 'He has,' he says. 'Thin,' says I, ''tis all off with th' Sassenach. We'll run thim fr'm th' face iv th' earth,' I says. ''Tis th' prisint intintion iv mesilf to hire a good big tug an' put a hook into Ireland, an' tow it over th' big dhrink, an' anchor it ayether in th' harbor iv New York or in th' lake.