leen, the nurse above in Dublin. But no son and he said you gave him the feeling of a son. I  feel  my  eyes  burning  and  I  don’t  want  her  to  see  me  crying especially when I don’t know why I’m crying.That’s all I do lately. Is it the job? Is it Mr. Hannon? My mother says, Oh, your bladder is near your eye. I think I’m crying because of the quiet way Mrs. Hannon is talking and she’s talking like that because of Mr. Hannon. Like a son, she says, and I’m glad he had that feeling. His working days are over, you know. He has to stay at home from this out.There might be a cure and if there is sure he might be able to get a job as a watchman where he doesn’t have to be lifting and hauling. I won’t have a job anymore, Mrs. Hannon. You have a job, Frank. School.That’s your job. That’s not a job, Mrs. Hannon. You’ll never have another job like it, Frank. It breaks Mr. Hannon’s heart to think of you dragging bags of coal off a float and it breaks your mother’s heart and ’twill destroy your eyes. God knows I’m sorry I ever got you into this for it had your poor mother caught between your eyes and Mr. Hannon’s legs. Can I go to the hospital to see Mr. Hannon? They might not let you in but surely you can come here to see him. God knows he won’t be doing much but reading and looking out the window. Mam tells me at home,You shouldn’t cry but then again tears are salty and they’ll wash the bad stuff from your eyes. 267