No, nor goats t' fly up in th' air! Would anny one," he said with
exasperation, "would anny one that got a plain order for goats
ixpict t' have t' furnish goats that would hop up off th' earth
an' make a balloon ascension? 'Tis no fault of Dennis Toole's
thim goats won't swim. What will Mike be telegraphin' me nixt, I
wonder? 'Dear Dennis: Th' goats won't lay eggs. How do ye make
thim?' Bye, have ye a piece of paper t' write an answer t' me
cousin Mike on?"

The Keeper of the Water Goats and Alderman Toole were sitting
on a rustic bench looking sadly at the water goats when the
Jeffersonville telegraph messenger brought them Dennis Toole's
answer. Alderman Toole grasped the envelope eagerly and tore it
open, and Fagan leaned over his shoulder as he read it:


"Michael Toole, Alderman, Jeffersonville," they read. "Put them
in the water and see if they will swim. Dennis Toole."


"Put thim in th' wather!" exclaimed Alderman Toole angrily.
"Why don't ye put thim in th' wather, Fagan? Why did ye not think
t' put thim in th' wather?" He looked down at his soaking
clothes, and his anger increased. "Why have ye been tryin' t'
make thim dongolas swim on land, Fagan?" he asked sarcastically.
"Or have ye been throwin' thim up in th' air t' see thim swim?
Why don't ye put thim in th' wather? Why don't ye follow th'
instructions of th' expert dongola water goat man an' put thim in
th' wather if ye want thim t' swim?"