to Malachy if he doesn’t give over with the reading.You can see little Michael is getting just as bad sticking his nose in books when he should be out playing like a healthy child. Books, books, books, says Grandma, ye will ruin yeer eyes entirely. She’s having tea with Mam and I hear her whisper,The thing to do is give him St.Anthony’s spit. What’s that? says Mam. Your fasting spit in the morning. Go to him before he wakes and spit on his eyes for the spit of a fasting mother has powerful cures in it. But  I’m  always  awake  before  Mam.  I  force  my  eyes  open  long before she stirs.I can hear her coming across the floor and when she stands over me for the spit I open my eyes. God, she says, your eyes are open. I think they’re getting better. That’s good, and she goes back to bed. The eyes don’t heal and she takes me to the Dispensary where the poor people see doctors and get their medicines. It’s the place to apply for public assistance when a father is dead or disappeared and there’s no dole money, no wages. There  are  benches  along  the  walls  by  the  doctors’  offices. The benches are always packed with people talking about their ailments. Old men and women sit and groan and babies scream and mothers say hush, love, hush.There’s a high platform in the middle of the Dispen- sary  with  a  counter  circling  it  chest-high. When  you  want  anything you stand in a queue before that platform to see Mr. Coffey or Mr. Kane.The women in the queue are like the women at the St.Vincent de Paul Society. They wear shawls and they’re respectful to Mr. Coffey and Mr. Kane because if they’re not they might be told go away and come back next week when it’s this minute you need the public assis- tance or a docket to see the doctor. Mr. Coffey and Mr. Kane love to have a good laugh with the women.They’ll decide if you’re desperate enough for the public assistance or if you’re sick enough to see a doc- tor.You have to tell them in front of everyone what’s wrong with you and they often have a good laugh with that.They’ll say, And what is it you  want,  Mrs.  O’Shea? A  docket  for  the  doctor,  is  it? And  what  is your trouble, Mrs. O’Shea? A pain, is it? A touch of the wind, maybe. Or maybe too much cabbage. Oh, the cabbage will do it right enough. They laugh and Mrs. O’Shea laughs and all the women laugh and say Mr. Coffey and Mr. Kane are funny men, they’d give Laurel and Hardy a run for their money. 225