, his chin lifted, he saw the
image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, beside the two puckers. One
of them mots that do be in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old
fellow welted hell out of him for one time he found out.

Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. The best pucker going
for strength was Fitzsimons. One puck in the wind from that fellow would
knock you into the middle of next week, man. But the best pucker for
science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of
him, dodging and all.

In Grafton street Master Dignam saw a red flower in a toff's mouth and
a swell pair of kicks on him and he listening to what the drunk was
telling him and grinning all the time.

No Sandymount tram.

Master Dignam walked along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to
his other hand. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. The
blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt, blooming
end to it. He met schoolboys with satchels. I'm not going tomorrow
either, stay away till Monday. He met other schoolboys. Do they notice
I'm in mourning? Uncle Barney said he'd get it into the paper tonight.
Then they'll all see it in the paper and read my name printed and pa's
name.

His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a
fly walking over it up to his eye. The scrunch that was when they
were screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were
bringing it downstairs.

Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling
the men how to get it round the bend. A big coffin it was, and high and
heavylooking. How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was standing
on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney's for
to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. Never see him
again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He told me to be
a good son to ma. I couldn't hear the other things he said but I saw
his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. Poor pa. That was
Mr Dignam, my father. I hope he's in purgatory now because he went to
confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night.

* * * * *

William Humble, earl of Dudley, and lady Dudley, accompanied by
lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the viceregal
lodge. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de
Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.

The cavalcade p