their telegrams,This is Frankie McCourt who thinks hes too good for
the post office.
I dont think that, Mrs. OConnell.
And who asked you to open your gob, Mr. High and Mighty? Too
grand for us, isnt he, boys?
He is, Mrs. OConnell.
And after all we did for him, giving him the telegrams with the
good tips, sending him to the country on fine days, taking him back
after his disgraceful behavior with Mr. Harrington, the Englishman, dis-
respecting the body of poor Mrs.Harrington,stuffing himself with ham
sandwiches, getting fluthered drunk on sherry, jumping out the win-
dow and destroying every rosebush in sight, coming in here three sheets
to the wind, and who knows what else he did delivering telegrams for
two years, who knows indeed, though we have a good idea, dont we,
Miss Barry?
We do, Mrs. OConnell, though twouldnt be a fit subject to be
talking about.
She whispers to Miss Barry and they look at me and shake their heads.
A disgrace he is to Ireland and his poor mother. I hope she never
finds out. But what would you expect of one born in America and his
father from the North.We put up with all that and still took him back.
She keeps talking past me again to the boys on the bench.
Going to work for Easons he is, working for that pack of freema-
sons and Protestants above in Dublin.Too good for the post office but
ready and willing to deliver all kinds of filthy English magazines all over
Limerick.Every magazine he touches will be a mortal sin.But hes leav-
ing now, so he is, and a sorry day it is for his poor mother that prayed
for a son with a pension to take care of her in her latter days. So here,
take your wages and go from the sight of us.
Miss Barry says, Hes a bad boy, isnt he, boys?
He is, Miss Barry.
I dont know what to say. I dont know what I did wrong. Should I
say Im sorry? Good-bye?
I lay my belt and pouch on Mrs. OConnells desk. She glares at me,
Go on. Go to your job at Easons. Go from us. Next boy, come up for
your telegrams.
Theyre back at work and Im down the stairs to the next part of
my life.
337