and tells us for once in our lives dont wash our faces, dont comb our
hair, dress in any old rag. She tells me give my sore eyes a good rub and
make them as red as I can for the worse you look at the Dispensary the
more pity you get and the better your chances of getting the public
assistance. She complains that Malachy Michael and Alphie look too
healthy and youd wonder why on this day of days they couldnt have
their usual scabby knees or the odd cut bruise or black eye. If we meet
anyone in the lane or the streets of Limerick we are not to tell them
where were going. She feels ashamed enough without telling the
whole world and wait till her own mother hears.
There is a queue already outside the Dispensary.There are women
like Mam with children in their arms, babies like Alphie, and children
playing on the pavement. The women comfort the babies against the
cold and scream at the ones playing in case they run into the street and
get hit by a motor car or a bicycle.There are old men and women hud-
dled against the wall talking to themselves or not talking at all. Mam
warns us not to wander from her and we wait half an hour for the big
door to open.A man tells us move inside in proper order and queue up
before the platform, that Mr. Coffey and Mr. Kane will be there in a
minute when they finish their tea in the room beyond.A woman com-
plains her children are freezing with the cold and couldnt Coffey and
Kane bloody well hurry up with their tea.The man says shes a trou-
blemaker but he wont take her name this time with the cold thats in
the morning but if theres another word shell be a sorry woman.
Mr. Coffey and Mr. Kane get up on the platform and pay no atten-
tion to the people. Mr. Kane puts on his glasses, takes them off, polishes
them, puts them on, looks at the ceiling. Mr. Coffey reads papers, writes
something, passes papers to Mr. Kane.They whisper to each other.They
take their time.They dont look at us.
Then Mr. Kane calls the first old man to the platform.Whats your
name?
Timothy Creagh, sir.
Creagh, hah? A fine old Limerick name you have there.
I do, sir. Indeed I do.
And what do you want, Creagh?
Ah, sure, I do be havin them pains in me stomach again an Id like
to see Dr. Feeley.
Well, now, Creagh, are you sure its not the pints of porter that are
going against your stomach.
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