their telegrams,This is Frankie McCourt who thinks he’s too good for the post office. I don’t think that, Mrs. O’Connell. And who asked you to open your gob, Mr. High and Mighty? Too grand for us, isn’t he, boys? He is, Mrs. O’Connell. 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, don’t we, Miss Barry? We do, Mrs. O’Connell, though ’twouldn’t 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 he’s 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, He’s a bad boy, isn’t he, boys? He is, Miss Barry. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I did wrong. Should I say I’m sorry? Good-bye? I lay my belt and pouch on Mrs. O’Connell’s desk. She glares at me, Go on. Go to your job at Easons. Go from us. Next boy, come up for your telegrams. They’re back at work and I’m down the stairs to the next part of my life. 337