ong they should be
soaked, Mike?"

"'Twill do no harrm t' soak thim over night, anny how," said Toole.
"Over night is th' usual soak given t' th' soup-bean an' th' salt
mackerel, t' say nawthin' of th' codfish an' others of th' water-goat
family. Let th' water goats soak over night, Fagan, an by mornin' they
will be ready t' swim like a trout. We will anchor thim in th' lake,
Fagan--an' we will say nawthin' t' Dugan. 'Twould be a blow t' Dugan
was he t' learn th' dongolas provided fer th' park was young an'
wather-shy."

They anchored the water goats firmly in the lake, and left them there to
overcome their shyness, which seemed, as Fagan and Toole left them, to
be as great as ever. The goats gazed sadly, and bleated longingly, after
the two men as they disappeared in the dusk, and when the men had passed
entirely out of sight, the goats looked at each other and complained
bitterly.

Alderman Toole thoughtfully changed his wet clothes for dry ones before
he went to Casey's that evening, for he thought Dugan might be there,
and he was. He was there when Toole arrived, and his brow was black.
He had had a bad day of it. Everything had gone wrong with him and his
affairs. A large lump of his adherents had sloughed off from his party
and had affiliated with his opponents, and the evening opposition paper
had come out with a red-hot article condemning the administration for
reckless extravagance. It had especially condemned Dugan for burdening
the city with new bonds to create an unneeded park, and the whole thing
had ended with a screech of ironic laughter over the--so the editor
called it--fitting capstone of the whole business, the purchase of two
dongola goats at perfectly extravagant prices.

"Mike," said the big mayor severely, when the little alderman had
offered his greetings, "there is the divil an' all t' pay about thim
dongolas. Th' News is full of thim. 'Twill be th' ind of us all if they
do not pan out well. Have ye tried thim in th' water yet?"

"Sure!" exclaimed the little alderman with a heartiness he did not feel.
"What has me an' Fagan been doin' all day but tryin' thim? Have no fear
of th' wather goats, Dugan."

"Do they swim well, Mike?" asked the big mayor kindly, but with a weary
heaviness he did not try to conceal.

"Swim!" exclaimed Toole. "Did ye say swim, Dugan? Swim is no name for
th' way they rip thro' the wather! 'Twas marvellous t' see thim. Ah,
thim dongolas is wonderful animals! Do ye