outa him the whole time he’s that good-natured God bless him sure he’ll live forever with the sweetness that’s in him the little dote spittin’ image of his mother his father his grandma his little brothers dead an’ gone. Mam calls from the bottom of the stairs, Frank, come down and have lemonade and a bun. I don’t want it.You can keep it. I said come down this minute for if I have to climb these stairs I’ll warm your behind and you’ll rue the day. Rue? What’s rue? Never mind what’s rue. Come down here at once. Her voice is sharp and rue sounds dangerous. I’ll go down. In the kitchen Grandma says, Look at the long puss on him.You’d think he’d be happy for his little brother except that a boy that’s going from nine to ten is always a right pain in the arse an’ I know for didn’t I have two of ’em. The lemonade and bun are delicious and Alphie the new baby is chirping away enjoying his baptism day too innocent to know his name is an affliction. Grandpa in the North sends a telegram money order for five pounds for the baby Alphie. Mam wants to cash it but she can’t go far from the bed. Dad says he’ll cash it at the post office. She tells Malachy and me to go with him. He cashes it and tells us,All right, boys, go home and tell your mother I’ll be home in a few minutes. Malachy says, Dad, you’re not to go to the pub. Mam said you’re to bring home the money.You’re not to drink the pint. Now, now, son. Go home to your mother. Dad, give us the money.That money is for the baby. Now, Francis, don’t be a bad boy. Do what your father tells you. He walks away from us and into South’s pub. Mam is sitting by the fireplace with Alphie in her arms. She shakes her head. He went to the pub, didn’t he? He did. I want ye to go back down to that pub and read him out of it.I want ye to stand in the middle of the pub and tell every man your father is drinking the money for the baby.Ye are to tell the world there isn’t a 183