He opened the paper on his desk and read it.

“General Order Number Seven Hundred and Twenty: 

“To all employees of the Interurban Express Company:  Cancel General Order Number Seven Hundred and Nineteen.  By order of the president.”

“As I was sayin’,” said Flannery, “th’ prisidint has a great head on him.”

III

FLEAS WILL BE FLEAS

Mike Flannery was the star boarder at Mrs. Muldoon’s, and he deserved to be so considered, for he had boarded with Mrs. Muldoon for years, and was the agent of the Interurban Express Company at Westcote, while Mrs. Muldoon’s other boarders were largely transient.

“Mike,” said Mrs. Muldoon, one noon, when Mike came for his lunch, “I know th’ opinion ye have of Dagos, and niver a-one have I took into me house, and I think the same of thim meself—­dirthy things, an’ takin’ the bread away from th’ honest Amercan laborin’ man—­and I would not be thinkin’ of takin’ one t’ board at this day, but would ye tell me this:—­is a Frinchmin a Dago?”

Flannery raised his knife and laid down the law with it.

“Mrs. Muldoon, mam,” he said, “there be two kinds of Frinchmin.  There be the respictible Frinchmin, and there be th’ unrespictible Frinchmin.  They both be furriners, but they be classed different.  Th’ respictible Frinchmin is no worse than th’ Dutch, and is classed as Dutch, but th’ other kind is Dagos.  There is no harm in th’ Dutch Frinchmin, for thim is such as Napoleon Bonnypart and the like of him, but ye want t’ have nawthin’ t’ do with th’ Dago Frinch.  They be a bad lot.”

“There was a Frinchmin askin’ would I give him a room and board, this mornin’,” said Mrs. Muldoon.

Flannery nodded knowingly.

“I knowed it!” he cried. “‘T was apparent t’ me th’ minute ye spoke, mam.  And agin th’ Dutch Frinch I have nawthin’ t’ say.  If he be a Dutch Frinchmin let him come.  Was he that?”

“Sure, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Muldoon, perplexed.  “He was a pleasant-spoken man, enough.  ’T is a professor he is.”

“There be many kinds of professors,” said Mike.

“Sure!” agreed Mrs. Muldoon.  “This wan is a professor of fleas.”

Mike Flannery grinned silently at his plate.

“I have heard of thim, too!” he said.  “But ’tis of insects they be professors, and not of one kind of insects alone, Mrs. Muldoon, mam.  Ye have mistook th’ understandin’ of what he was sayin’.”

“I beg pardon to ye, Mr. Flannery,” said Mrs. Muldoon, with some spirit, “but ‘tis not mistook I am.  Fleas th’ professor said, and no mistake at all.”