Mike Flannery | Page 7

like a cat that would advertise itself. But that is just like a
cat; it is always around when it is n't needed, and when it is needed it
can't be found. Before the afternoon was half over the boys had tired of
digging for a dead cat and had gone away, but Flannery kept at it until
the sun went down. Then he looked to see how much of the plot was
left to dig up. It was nearly all left. As he washed his hands before
going to his boarding-house a messenger-boy handed him a telegram.
Flannery tore it open with misgivings.
"Cat has not arrived. Must come on night train. Can accept no excuse,"
it read.
Flannery folded the telegram carefully and put it in his hip pocket. He
washed his hands with more deliberate care than he had ever spent on
them. He adjusted his coat most carefully on his back, and then walked
with dignity to his boarding-house. He knew what would happen. There
would be an inspector out from the head office in the morning.
Flannery would probably have to look for a new job.
In the morning he was up early, but he was still dignified. He did not
put on his uniform, but wore his holiday clothes, with the black tie with
the red dots. An inspector is a hard man to face, but a man in his best
clothes has more of a show against him. Flannery came to the office the
back way; there was a possibility of the inspector's being already at the
front door. As he crossed the filled-in meadows he poked unhopefully
at the soil here and there, but nothing came of it. But suddenly his eyes
lighted on a figure that he knew, just turning out of the alley three
buildings from the office. It was Timmy!
Flannery had no chance at all. He ran, but how can a man run in his
best clothes across soft, new soil when he is getting a bit too stout? And
Timmy had seen him first. When Flannery reached the corner of the

alley Timmy was gone, and with a sigh that was partly regret and partly
breathlessness from his run Flannery turned into the main street. There
was the inspector, sure enough, standing on the curb. Flannery had lost
some of his dignity, but he made up for it in anger. He more than made
up for it in the heat he had run himself into. He was red in the face. He
met the inspector with a glare of anger.
"There be th' key, if 'tis that ye're wantin', an' ye may take it an'
welcome, fer no more will I be ixpriss agint fer a company that sinds
long-haired cats dead in a box an' orders me t' kape thim throo th' hot
weather fer a fireside companion an' ready riferince av perfumery. How
t' feed an' water dead cats av th' long-haired kind I may not know, an'
how t' live with dead cats I may not know, but whin t' bury dead cats I
do know, an' there be plinty av other jobs where a man is not ordered t'
dig up forty-siven acres t' find a cat that was buried none too soon at
that!"
"What's that?" said the inspector. "Is that cat dead?"
"An' what have I been tellin' th' dudes in th' head office all th' while?"
asked Flannery with asperity. "What but that th' late deceased dead cat
was defunct an' no more? An' thim insultin' an honest man with their
'Have ye stholen th' cat out av th' box, Flannery, an' put in an inferior
short-haired cat?' I want no more av thim! Here's the key. Good day t'
ye!"
"Hold on," said the inspector, putting his hand on Flannery's arm. "You
don't go yet. I 'll have a look at your cash and your accounts first. What
you say about that cat may be true enough, but we have got to have
proof of it. That was a valuable cat, that was. It was an Angora cat, a
real Angora cat. You've got to produce that cat before we are through
with you."
"Projuce th' cat!" said Flannery angrily. "Th' cat is safe an' sound in th'
back lot. I presint ye with th' lot. If 't is not enough fer ye, go awn an'
do th' dirthy worrk ye have t' do awn me. I'll dig no more fer th' cat."
The inspector unlocked the door and entered the office. It was hot with

the close heat of a room that has been locked up overnight. Just inside
the door the inspector stopped and sniffed suspiciously. No express
office should have smelled as that one smelled.
"Wan minute!" cried