Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 2
OnweekdayshedidmessagesbetweenthehouseinCarysfortAvenueandthoseshopsinthemainstreetofthetownwithwhichthefamilydealt.StephenwasgladtogowithhimontheseerrandsforuncleCharleshelpedhimveryliberallytohandfulsofwhateverwasexposedinopenboxesandbarrelsoutsidethecounter.HewouldseizeahandfulofgrapesandsawdustorthreeorfourAmericanapplesandthrustthemgenerouslyintohisgrandnephew’shandwhiletheshopmansmileduneasily;and,onStephen’sfeigningreluctancetotakethem,hewouldfrownandsay:
—Takethem,sir.Doyouhearme,sir?They’regoodforyourbowels.
WhentheorderlisthadbeenbookedthetwowouldgoontotheparkwhereanoldfriendofStephen’sfather,MikeFlynn,wouldbefoundseatedonabench,waitingforthem.ThenwouldbeginStephen’srunroundthepark.MikeFlynnwouldstandatthegateneartherailwaystation,watchinhand,whileStephenranroundthetrackinthestyleMikeFlynnfavoured,hisheadhighlifted,hiskneeswellliftedandhishandsheldstraightdownbyhissides.Whenthemorningpracticewasoverthetrainerwouldmakehiscommentsandsometimesillustratethembyshufflingalongforayardorsocomicallyinanoldpairofbluecanvasshoes.AsmallringofwonderstruckchildrenandnursemaidswouldgathertowatchhimandlingerevenwhenheanduncleCharleshadsatdownagainandweretalkingathleticsandpolitics.
