Дублинцы

Ivy Day in the Committee Room

           Betweenourselves,youknow,Crofton(he’sadecentchap,ofcourse),buthe’snotworthadamnasacanvasser.Hehasn’tawordtothrowtoadog.HestandsandlooksatthepeoplewhileIdothetalking.”

           Heretwomenenteredtheroom.Oneofthemwasaveryfatmanwhosebluesergeclothesseemedtobeindangeroffallingfromhisslopingfigure.Hehadabigfacewhichresembledayoungox’sfaceinexpression,staringblueeyesandagrizzledmoustache.Theotherman,whowasmuchyoungerandfrailer,hadathin,clean-shavenface.Heworeaveryhighdoublecollarandawide-brimmedbowlerhat.

           “Hello,Crofton!”saidMr.Henchytothefatman.“Talkofthedevil...

           “Wheredidtheboosecomefrom?”askedtheyoungman.“Didthecowcalve?”

           “O,ofcourse,Lyonsspotsthedrinkfirstthing!”saidMr.O’Connor,laughing.

           “Isthatthewayyouchapscanvass,”saidMr.Lyons,“andCroftonandIoutinthecoldandrainlookingforvotes?”

           “Why,blastyoursoul,”saidMr.Henchy,“I’dgetmorevotesinfiveminutesthanyoutwo’dgetinaweek.”

           “Opentwobottlesofstout,Jack,”saidMr.O’Connor.

           “HowcanI?”saidtheoldman,“whenthere’snocorkscrew?

           “Waitnow,waitnow!”saidMr.Henchy,gettingupquickly.

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