flour from a large bag. When she finishes pouring, she says, There’s a pound of flour. I don’t think so, says Nora.That’s a very small pound of flour. The woman flushes and glares,Are you accusin’ me? Ah, no, Mrs. McGrath, says Nora. I think there was a little accident there the way your hip was pressed against that paper and you didn’t even know the paper was pulled down a bit. Oh, God, no. A woman like you that’s forever on her knees before the Virgin Mary is an inspi- ration to us all and is that your money I see on the floor there? Mrs. McGrath steps back quickly and the needle on the scale jumps and quivers.What money? she says, till she looks at Nora, and knows. Nora smiles. Must be a trick of the shadows, she says, and smiles at the scale. There was a mistake right enough for that shows barely half a pound of flour. That scale gives me more trouble, says Mrs. McGrath. I’m sure it does, says Nora. But my conscience is clear before God, says Mrs. McGrath. I’m sure it is, says Nora, and you’re admired by one and all at the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the Legion of Mary. I try to be a good Catholic. Try? God knows ’tis little trying you’d have for you’re well known for having a kind heart and I was wondering if you could spare a cou- ple of sweets for the little boys here. Well, now, I’m not a millionaire, but here . . . God bless you, Mrs. McGrath, and I know it’s asking a lot but could you possibly lend me a couple of cigarettes? Well,  now,  they’re  not  on  the  docket.  I’m  not  here  to  supply luxuries. If you could see your way, missus, I’d be sure to mention your kind- ness to the St.Vincent de Paul. All right, all right, says Mrs. McGrath. Here. One time for the cig- arettes and one time only. God bless you, says Nora, and I’m sorry you had so much trouble with that scale. On the way home we stopped in the People’s Park and sat on a bench while Malachy and I sucked on our sweets and Mam and Nora smoked 67