reputation as a strong man, having been defeated twice by a mere boy. His heart swelled with fury and, when he thought of the woman in the big hat who had brushed against him and said Pardon! his fury nearly choked him.

His tram let him down at Shelbourne Road and he steered his great body along in the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He loathed returning to his home. When he went in by the side-door he found the kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled upstairs:

`Ada! Ada!'

His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husband when he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk. They had five children. A little boy came running down the stairs.

`Who is that?' Said the man, peering through the darkness.

`Me, pa.'

`Who are you? Charlie?'

`No, pa. Tom.'

`Where's your mother?'

`She's out at the chapel.'

`That's right... Did she think of leaving any dinner for me?'

`Yes, pa. I--'

`Light the lamp. What do you mean by having the place in darkness? Are the other children in bed?'

The man sat down heavily on one of the chairs while the little boy lit the lamp. He began to mimic his son's flat accent, saying half to himself: `At the chapel. At the chapel, if you please!' When the lamp was lit he banged his fist on the table and shouted:

`What's for my dinner?'

`I'm going... to cook it, pa,' said the little boy. The man jumped up furiously and pointed to the fire.

`On that fire! You let the fire out! By God, I'll teach you to do that again!'

He took a step to the door and seized the walking-stick which was standing behind it.

`I'll teach you to let the fire out!' he said, rolling up his sleeve in order to give his arm free play.

The little boy cried `O, pa!' and ran whimpering round the table, but the man followed him and caught him by the coat. The little boy looked about him wildly but, seeing no way of escape, fell upon his knees.

`Now, you'll let the fire out the next time!' said the man, striking at him vigorously with the stick. `Take that, you little whelp!'

The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. He clasped his hands together in the air and his voice shook with fright.

`O, pa!' he cried. `Don't beat me, pa! And I'll... I'll say a Hail Mary for you... I'll say a Hail Mary for you, pa, if you don't beat me... I'll say a Hail Mary... '