'gettin' th' usual commission,' he says. 'We're still heroes,' he
says; 'an' our pitchers is in th' pa-apers,' he says. 'Go in,' he
says, 'an' sthrike a blow at th' gay deceivers,' he says. 'I'll sell
ye'er lives dearly,' he says. An' th' Archery Club wint in. Th'
pathrites wint up again a band iv Kansas sojers, that was wanst heroes
befure they larned th' hay-foot-sthraw-foot, an' is now arnin' th'
wages iv a good harvest hand all th' year ar-round, an' 'd rather
fight than ate th' ar-rmy beef, an' ye know what happened. Some iv th'
poor divvles iv heroes is liberated fr'm th' cares iv life; an' th'
r-rest iv thim is up in threes, an' wishin' they was home, smokin' a
good see-gar with mother.

"An' all this because Aggynaldoo didn't hear th' whistle blow. He
thought th' boom was still on in th' hero business. If he'd come in,
ye'd be hearin' that James Haitch Aggynaldoo 'd been appointed
foorth-class postmasther at Hootchey-Kootchey; but now th' nex' ye
know iv him 'll be on th' blotther at th' polis station: 'James Haitch
Aggynaldoo, alias Pompydoor Jim, charged with carryin' concealed
weepins an' ray-sistin' an officer.' Pathriteism always dies when ye
establish a polis foorce."

"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'm kind iv sorry f'r th' la-ads with th'
bows an' arrows. Maybe they think they're pathrites."

"Divvle th' bit iv difference it makes what they think, so long as we
don't think so," said Mr. Dooley. "It's what Father Kelly calls a case
iv mayhem et chew 'em. That's Latin, Hinnissy; an' it manes what's wan
man's food is another man's pizen."