kitchen  floors,  what  are  tables  and  chairs  for?  He  tells  Mam  that Frankie is not right in the head and Mam says we’ll all catch our death from the damp of the floor.We sit on the floor and sing and Mam and The Abbot sit on chairs. She sings “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and the Abbot sings “The Road to Rasheen” and we still don’t know what his song is about. We sit on the floor and tell stories about things that happened, things that never happened and things that will happen when we all go to America. There are slow days at the post office and we sit on the bench and talk. We can talk but we are not to laugh.Miss Barry says we should be grate- ful we’re getting paid to sit there, bunch of idlers and streetboys that we are,and that there is to be no laughing.Getting paid for sitting and chat- ting is no laughing matter and the first titter out of any of us and out we go till we come to our senses and if the tittering continues we’ll be reported to the proper authorities. The boys talk about her under their breath.Toby Mackey says,What that oul’ bitch needs is a good rub o’ the relic, a good rub o’ the brush. Her mother was a streetwalking flaghopper and her father escaped from a lunatic asylum with bunions on his balls and warts on his wank. There  is  laughing  along  the  bench  and  Miss  Barry  calls  to  us,  I warned ye against the laughing.Mackey,what is it you’re prattling about over there? I said we’d all be better off out in the fresh air on this fine day deliv- ering telegrams, Miss Barry. I’m sure you did,Mackey.Your mouth is a lavatory.Did you hear me? I did, Miss Barry. You have been heard on the stairs, Mackey. Yes, Miss Barry. Shut up, Mackey. I will, Miss Barry. Not another word, Mackey. No, Miss Barry. I said shut up, Mackey. All right, Miss Barry. That’s the end of it, Mackey. Don’t try me. I won’t, Miss Barry. Mother o’ God give me patience. 320