rests his legs. I wish they could see me pushing the handcart to Souths
pub and having my lemonade with Mr. Hannon and Uncle Pa and me
all black and Bill Galvin all white.Id like to show the world the tips Mr.
Hannon lets me keep, four shillings, and the shilling he gives me for the
mornings work, five shillings altogether.
Mam is sitting by the fire and when I hand her the money she looks
at me, drops it in her lap and cries. Im puzzled because money is sup-
posed to make you happy. Look at your eyes, she says. Go to that glass
and look at your eyes.
My face is black and the eyes are worse than ever.The whites and
the eyelids are red, and the yellow stuff oozes to the corners and out
over the lower lids. If the ooze sits a while it forms a crust that has to be
picked off or washed away.
Mam says thats the end of it. No more Mr. Hannon. I try to explain
that Mr. Hannon needs me. He can barely walk anymore. I had to do
everything this morning, drive the float, wheel the handcart with the
bags, sit in the pub, drink lemonade, listen to the men discussing who is
the best, Rommel or Montgomery.
She says shes sorry for Mr. Hannons troubles but we have troubles
of our own and the last thing she needs now is a blind son stumbling
through the streets of Limerick.Bad enough you nearly died of typhoid,
now you want to go blind on top of it.
And I cant stop crying now because this was my one chance to be
a man and bring home the money the telegram boy never brought from
my father. I cant stop crying because I dont know what Mr. Hannon
is going to do on Monday morning when he has no one to help him
pull the bags to the edge of the float, to push the bags into the houses.
I cant stop crying because of the way he is with that horse he calls sweet
because hes so gentle himself and what will the horse do if Mr. Han-
non isnt there to take him out, if Im not there to take him out? Will
that horse fall down hungry for the want of oats and hay and the odd
apple?
Mam says I shouldnt be crying, its bad for the eyes. She says,Well
see. Thats all I can tell you now.Well see.
She washes my eyes and gives me sixpence to take Malachy to the
Lyric to see Boris Karloff in The Man They Could Not Hang and have
two pieces of Cleeves toffee. Its hard to see the screen with the yellow
stuff oozing from my eyes and Malachy has to tell me whats happen-
ing. People around us tell him shut up, theyd like to hear what Boris
265