Дублінці
Ivy Day in the Committee Room
“He’snotabadsort,”saidMr.Henchy,“onlyFanninghassuchaloanofhim.Hemeanswell,youknow,inhisowntinpotway.”
Theboycamebackwiththecorkscrew.TheoldmanopenedthreebottlesandwashandingbackthecorkscrewwhenMr.Henchysaidtotheboy:
“Wouldyoulikeadrink,boy?”
“Ifyouplease,sir,”saidtheboy.
Theoldmanopenedanotherbottlegrudgingly,andhandedittotheboy.
“Whatageareyou?”heasked.
“Seventeen,”saidtheboy.
Astheoldmansaidnothingfurther,theboytookthebottle.said:“Here’smybestrespects,sir,toMr.Henchy,”drankthecontents,putthebottlebackonthetableandwipedhismouthwithhissleeve.Thenhetookupthecorkscrewandwentoutofthedoorsideways,mutteringsomeformofsalutation.
“That’sthewayitbegins,”saidtheoldman.
“Thethinedgeofthewedge,”saidMr.Henchy.
Theoldmandistributedthethreebottleswhichhehadopenedandthemendrankfromthemsimultaneously.Afterhavingdrankeachplacedhisbottleonthemantelpiecewithinhand’sreachanddrewinalongbreathofsatisfaction.
“Well,Ididagoodday’sworktoday,”saidMr.Henchy,afterapause.
“Thatso,John?”
“Yes.IgothimoneortwosurethingsinDawsonStreet,Croftonandmyself.
