“I make dot motions,” said Alderman Greveneyer, half raising his great bulk from his seat and sinking back with a grunt. “Sicond th' motion,” said Alderman Toole. “Moved and siconded,” said the mayor, “that Alderman Toole be a committee t' buy two dongolas t' put in th' lake for th' kids t' ride on. Ye have heard th' motion.” The motion was unanimously carried. That was the kind of City Council Mayor Dugan had chosen. When little Alderman Toole dropped into Casey's saloon that night on his way home he did not slip meekly to the far end of the bar, as he usually did. For the first time in his aldermanic career he had been put on a committee where he would really have something to do, and he felt the honour. He boldly took a place between the big mayor and Alderman Grevemeyer, and said: “One of th' same, Casey,” with the air of a man who has matters of importance on his mind. He felt that things were coming his way. Even the big mayor seemed to appreciate it, for he put his hand affectionately on Toole's shoulder. “Mike,” said the mayor, “about thim dongolas, now; have ye thought anny about where ye would be gettin' thim?” “I have not,” said Toole. “I was thinkin' 'twould be good t' think it over a bit, Dugan. Mebby 'twould be best t' git thim at Chicagy.” He looked anxiously at the mayor's face, hoping for some sign of approval or disapproval, but the mayor's face was noncommittal. “But mebby it wouldn't,” concluded Toole. As a feeler he added: “Would ye be wantin' me t' have thim made here, Dugan?” The big mayor patted Toole on the shoulder indulgently. “It's up t' you, Mike,” he said. “Ye know th' way Dugan does things, an' th' way he likes thim done. I trust thim that I kin trust, an' whin I put a man on committee I'm done wid th' thing. Of coorse,” he added, putting his mouth close to Toole's ear, and winking at Grevemeyer, “ye will see that there is a rake-off for me an' th' byes.” “Sure!” said Toole. The big mayor turned back to the bar and took a drink from his glass. Grevemeyer took a drink from his glass, also. So did Toole, gravely. Dugan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned to Toole again. “Mike,” he said, “what do ye think? Mebby 'twould do as well t' git a couple of sicond-hand dongolas an' have thim painted up. If they was in purty good shape no wan would know th' difference, an' 'twould make a bit more rake-off fer th' byes, mebby.” “Th' same word was on th' ind o' me tongue, Dugan,” said Toole, nodding his head slowly. “I was considerin' this very minute where I could lay me hand on a couple of purty good dongolas that has not been used much. Flannagan could paint thim up fine!” “Or Stoltzenau could do such paintings,” interposed Grevemeyer. “Sure!” agreed the big mayor. He toyed with his glass a moment. “Mike,” he said suddenly, “what th' divil is a dongola, anyhow?”