So he shoved a pipe up his arse, lit a match to it, and there in a second he had a fine flame ready to boil water in any billycan.Tommies came running from trenches all around when they heard the news and they gave him any amount of money if he’d let them boil water. He made so much money he was able to bribe the generals to let him out of the army and off he went to Paris where he had a fine time drinking wine with artists and models. He had such a high time of it he spent all his money and when he came back to Limerick the only job he could get was in the gas works shoveling coal into the furnaces. He said there was so much gas in his system now he could supply light to a small town for a year. Aunt Aggie sniffed and said that was not a proper story to be telling in the presence of a dead child and Grandma said it was better to have a story like that than to be sitting around with the long face. Uncle Pat Sheehan, sitting on the floor with his stout, said he was going to sing a song. More power to you, said Pa Keating, and Uncle Pat sang  “The  Road  to  Rasheen.”  He  kept  saying,  Rasheen,  Rasheen, mavourneen  mean,  and  the  song  made  no  sense  because  his  father dropped him on his head long ago and every time he sang that song he had different words. Grandma said that was a fine song and Pa Keating said Caruso better look over his shoulder. Dad went over to the bed in the corner where he slept with Mam. He sat on the edge, put his bot- tle on the floor, covered his face with his hands and  cried. He said, Frank, Frank, come here, and I had to go to him so that he could hug me the way Mam was hugging Malachy. Grandma said, We better go now and sleep a bit before the funeral tomorrow.They each knelt by the bed and said a prayer and kissed Eugene’s forehead. Dad put me down, stood up and nodded to them as they left.When they were gone he lifted each of the stout bottles to  his mouth and drained it. He ran his finger inside the whiskey bottle and licked it. He turned down the flame  in  the  paraffin  oil  lamp  on  the  table  and  said  it  was  time  for Malachy and me to be in bed.We’d  have to sleep with him and Mam that night as little Eugene would be needing the bed for himself. It was dark in the room now except for the sliver of streetlight that fell on Eugene’s lovely soft silky hair. Dad lights the fire in the morning, makes the tea, toasts the bread in the fire. He brings Mam’s toast and tea but she waves it away and turns to the  wall.  He  brings  Malachy  and  me  to  Eugene  to  kneel  and  say  a 84