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.Bar meself, the nerves of the crowd was in flitters.Pray proceed to the dénouement.At last begob the blow fell.Without turnin round at all, the brother speaks in a very queer voice.I don’t see any Hair Dev, says he.I don’t see any Hair Dev.Well luckit.Do you know what it is?What is it?The crowd nearly passed out.The poor ould landlady—there was tears in her eyes.What’s that, says she.But the brother doesn’t pretend to hear, sits down very cross-lookin and starts swallyin tea, you could see the bow tie waggin every time your man swallied a mouthful.There wasn’t another thing said that fine morning.I see.Next thing off with the poor landlady down town to Moore Street, tried every shop in the street lookin for the brother’s fancy feed but it was no use, she didn’t know whether it was sold loose or in a bag or in a tin.The nearest French stuff she could get was the French beans.So what does she do only have a feed of them things laid out for the brother’s breakfast next mornin.What’s this, says the brother.Them’s French garden vegetables, says the landlady.The land of France, says the brother, never seen them things.That is what one would call ‘a quare one’.Thing’s is gone from bad to worse.The brother now had a jug of Hair Dev bought be himself above in the bedroom.Breakfast in bed and drinkin tay out of a glass! And the bow tie never offa the neck!And one assumes that is only a beginning.The brother says he doesn’t know why he lives in this country at all.Takes a very poor view.Here’s me bus! Cheers!Cheers!WELL, BEGOB is it yourself! How’s thricks?It is and they are well.How did you get over the Christmas?Safely, thank you.May I ask how you find the new white bread?Hah?The white bread?The white bread? Why, did you not hear?Hear what?Sure me dear man the brother wouldn’t have that stuff in the digs at all.Wouldn’t hear of it … at anny price.So I never got a chance of puttin’ it in me mouth at all.I see.Takes a very poor view.Begob there was ructions there a fortnight back.Skin an’ hair flyin’ above in the digs.A fierce heave wan mornin’.Her nibs the landlady got herself into very serious trouble with the brother.One sympathises with the lady.The day before the white bread is due, the brother issues ordhers to all hands.No white bread … in anny circumstances.The brother said that he was after goin into the whole thing personally, analysin and workin at the chemical ends of it above in d’Upper Castle Yard with a man be the name of Wheeler.The brother says the white bread is poison, wouldn’t hear of annybody puttin it into his mouth.And begob her nibs the landlady with her tongue hangin out waitin’ for the white loaf the next morning!One again sympathises with that lady.So the white bread is barred.But begob about a week ago the brother comes down to breakfast and starts into the French Hair Dev that he does have in a special jug of his own above in the bedroom.Suddenly begob he puts down the spoon and says he: WHAT’S THIS I SEE?And what did he see?Wasn’t there a white crumb on the table cloth.Well luckit.I am looking.If you seen the face the brother put on him.WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS, says he in a fierce voice.No answer, of course.I wouldn’t like to be the one to say yes to that, would you?I would not.So up with the brother without another word and out to the kitchen.The crowd could hear him rootin and searchin and foosterin around the suddenly the landlady goes the colours of the rainbow when she hears him pullin over a chair to have a screw at the top of the dresser.Sure enough in he comes with the half of a white loaf in the hand.Well luckit.I still am looking.It would frighten you to look at the brother’s face.WHICH OF YEZ IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS, says he, lookin hard at the landlady.I am, says she in a terrible watery voice.Then gettin the wind up from the brother’s face, she says No, I mean I’m not, it was left here be the married sister that lives below in Skerries.Wasn’t that a good wan.The brother’s married sister.An excellent one, in fact.The brother pokes up the fire, puts the loaf in it and then away upstairs with him.Down again with the coat and hat on and in the hand a dose he was after makin up in a glass, desperate-lookin red tack.HERE, says he to the landlady, THROW THIS BACK.Her nibs, of course, has no choice.Now, says the brother, I’M ON ME WAY TO SKERRIES AND I’LL BE BACK TO-NIGHT.IF THINGS ISN’T SERIOUS.Begob he’s hardly out of the door when the landlady takes bad.Starts gripin’ and moanin’ and goin’ pale in the face.The crowd in the digs has to cart her upstairs to bed, sixteen stone begob.Fierce work.I have no doubt of it.Well she’s lyin there all day in a terrible condition but of course nobody was goin to chance calling a docthor.The brother wouldn’t like that, you know.The brother takes a very poor view of the docthors.So I recollect.Well annyway when the brother comes home at night, I tell him the landlady took bad after the red dose.IS IT ANNY WONDHER SHE’S TOOK BAD, says the brother, AFTER PUTTIN THAT WHITE POISON IN HER MOUTH.DIDN’T I WARN YEZ ALL.IT’S A GOOD JOB I TOOK HER IN TIME, says he.And then up to start dosin’ her again, black stuff this time.She’s above in the bed still.Gob, me bus.Cheers!Good-bye.YOURSELF, is it? Fit an’ well you’re lookin.I’ll tell you a good one.I’ll give you a laugh.Do.I’ll give you a laugh.The digs was in the front line for near on a fortnight.Martial law, begob.It was a … thremendious business.Fierce.One divines a domestic crisis of unexampled gravity.Some was for handin in the gun after the first week and runnin off on holidays, muryaa, off down to Skerries or Arklow where they were sleepin five in a bed and not a place to be had for love or money.All hands was losin weight be the pound.It was a … most … thremendious … war of nerves.No doubt your relative was the author of this tension?Tuesday fortnight was D-Day.The brother comes down to breakfast without the mark of a shavin-razor on the jaw.The brother—!Indeed?A man … a man … that was never known to put the nose out of the room of a mornin without everything just so—the handkerchief right, the tie right, and never without a fierce smell of shavin-soap off him.An’ the hair-oil standin out on the head like diamonds!One cannot always maintain such an attitude neque semper tendit arcum Apollo.Of course the crowd starts eatin an’ takin no notice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]