alive. 'Tis not too often I take a bath, Mike, but if I was wan
of thim spongy-hided dongolas an' had t' be varnished each time I
got in me bath tub, I would stop bathin' for good an' all."

He looked toward the house.

"I'll not worry," he said. "Maggie will be sad t' hear th' job
is gone, but she would have took it harder t' know her Tim was
wastin' his time varnishin' th' slab side of a spongy goat."

II
MR. BILLINGS'S POCKETS


On the sixteenth of June Mr. Rollin Billings entered his home
at Westcote very much later than usual, and stealing upstairs,
like a thief in the night, he undressed and dropped into bed. In
two minutes he was asleep, and it was no wonder, for by that time
it was five minutes after three in the morning, and Mr.
Billings's usual bedtime was ten o'clock. Even when he was
delayed at his office he made it an invariable rule to catch the
nine o'clock train home.

When Mrs. Billings awoke the next--or, rather, that same--
morning, she gazed a minute at the thin, innocent face of her
husband, and was in the satisfied frame of mind that takes an
unexpected train delay as a legitimate excuse, when she happened
to cast her eyes upon Mr. Billings's coat, which was thrown
carelessly over the foot of the bed. Protruding from one of the
side pockets was a patent nursing-bottle, half full of milk.