Дублінці
Ivy Day in the Committee Room
”
“IthinkIknowthelittlegamethey’reat,”saidMr.Henchy.“YoumustowetheCityFathersmoneynowadaysifyouwanttobemadeLordMayor.Thenthey’llmakeyouLordMayor.ByGod!I’mthinkingseriouslyofbecomingaCityFathermyself.Whatdoyouthink?WouldIdoforthejob?”
Mr.O’Connorlaughed.
“Sofarasowingmoneygoes....”
“DrivingoutoftheMansionHouse,”saidMr.Henchy,“inallmyvermin,withJackherestandingupbehindmeinapowderedwig—eh?”
“Andmakemeyourprivatesecretary,John.”
“Yes.AndI’llmakeFatherKeonmyprivatechaplain.We’llhaveafamilyparty.”
“Faith,Mr.Henchy,”saidtheoldman,“you’dkeepupbetterstylethansomeofthem.IwastalkingonedaytooldKeegan,theporter.‘Andhowdoyoulikeyournewmaster,Pat?’saysItohim.‘Youhaven’tmuchentertainingnow,’saysI.‘Entertaining!’sayshe.‘He’dliveonthesmellofanoil-rag.’Anddoyouknowwhathetoldme?Now,IdeclaretoGodIdidn’tbelievehim.”
“What?”saidMr.HenchyandMr.O’Connor.
“Hetoldme:‘WhatdoyouthinkofaLordMayorofDublinsendingoutforapoundofchopsforhisdinner?How’sthatforhighliving?’sayshe.‘Wisha!wisha,’saysI.‘Apoundofchops,’sayshe,‘comingintotheMansionHouse.
