Дублінці
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.
