“I put thim in,” said Mr. Dooley.  “Ivry twinty minutes I feed th’ masheen a hatful iv nickels, so that whin me frinds dhrop in they won’t be dissypinted, d’ye mind.  ’Tis a fine invistment for a young man.  Little work an’ large profits.  It rayminds me iv Hogan’s big kid an’ what he done with his coin.  He made a lot iv it in dhrivin’ a ca-ar, he did, but he blew it all in again good liquor an’ bad women; an’, bedad, he was broke half th’ time an’ borrowin’ th’ other half.  So Hogan gets in Father Kelly fr’m up west iv th’ bridge, an’ they set in with Dinnis to talk him out iv his spindthrift ways.  ’I have plenty to keep mesilf,’ says Hogan, he says.  ‘But,’ he says, ’I want ye to save ye’er money,’ he says, ‘f’r a rainy day.’  ‘He’s right, Dinnis,’ says th’ soggarth,—­’he’s right,’ he says.  ’Ye should save a little in case ye need it,’ he says.  ‘Why don’t ye take two dollars,’ says th’ priest, ‘an’ invist it ivry month,’ says he, ‘in somethin’,’ says he, ’that ‘ll give ye profits,’ says he.  ‘I’ll do it,’ says Dinnis,—­’I ‘ll do it,’ he says.  Well, sir, Hogan was that tickled he give th’ good man five bones out iv th’ taypot; but, faith, Dinnis was back at his reg’lar game before th’ week was out, an’, afther a month or two, whin Hogan had to get th’ tayspoons out iv soak, he says to th’ kid, he says, ‘I thought ye was goin’ to brace up,’ he says, ‘an’ here ye’re burnin’ up ye’er money,’ he says.  ’Didn’t ye promise to invist two dollars ivry month?’ he says.  ‘I’m doin’ it,’ says Dinnis.  ’I’ve kept me wurrud.’  ‘An’ what are ye invistin’ it in?’ says Hogan.  ’In lotthry tickets,’ says th’ imp’dent kid.”

While delivering these remarks, Mr. Dooley was peeping over his glasses at Mr. McKenna, who was engaged in a struggle with the machine.  He dropped a nickel and it rattled down the slot, but it did not open the door.

“Doesn’t it open?” said Mr. Dooley.

“It does not.”

“Shake it thin,” said Mr. Dooley.  “Something must be wrong.”

Mr. McKenna shook the machine when he inserted the next nickel, but there was no compensatory flow of coins from the door.

“Perhaps the money is bad,” suggested Mr. Dooley.  “It won’t open f’r bad money.”

Thereupon he returned to his newspaper, observing which Mr. McKenna drew from his pocket a nickel attached to a piece of string and dropped it into the slot repeatedly.  After a while the door popped open, and Mr. McKenna thrust in his hand expectantly.  There was no response, and he turned in great anger to Mr. Dooley.

“There ain’t any money there,” he said.

“Ye’re right, Jawn,” responded Mr. Dooley.  “If ye expect to dhraw anny coin fr’m that there masheen, ye may call on some iv ye’er rough frinds down town f’r a brace an’ bit an’ a jimmy.  Jawn, me la-ad, I see th’ nickel with th’ string before; an’, to provide again it, I improved th’ masheen.  Thim nickels ye dhropped in are all in th’ dhrawer iv that there table, an’ to-morrow mornin’ ye may see me havin’ me hair cut be means iv thim.  An’ I’ll tell ye wan thing, Jawn McKenna, an’ that’s not two things, that if ye think ye can come up here to Ar-rchey Road an’ rob an honest man, by gar, ye’ve made th’ mistake iv ye’er life.  Goowan, now, before I call a polisman.”