He drained his third cup of watery tea to the dregs ao chewing the crusts of fried bread that were scattered near him, staring into the dark pool of the jar. The yellow dripping had been scooped out like a boghole and the pool u brought back to his memory the dark turf-coloured water of the bath in gowes. The box of pawn tickets at his elbow had just been rifled aook up idly oer another in his greasy fihe blue and white dockets, scrawled and sanded and creased and bearing the name of the pledger as Daly or MacEvoy.
1 Pair Buskins.
1 D. Coat.
3 Articles and White.
1 Mans Pants.
The them aside and gazed thoughtfully at the lid of the box, speckled with louse marks, and asked vaguely:
-- How much is the clock fast now?
His mother straightehe battered alarm clock that was lying on its side in the middle of the mantelpietil its dial showed a quarter to twelve and then laid it once more on its side.
-- An hour and twenty-five minutes, she said. The right time now is twenty past ten. The dear knows you might try to be in time for your lectures.
-- Fill out the plae to wash, said Stephen.
-- Katey, fill out the place for Stephen to wash.
-- Boody, fill out the place for Stephen to wash.
-- I t, Im going for blue. Fill it out, you, Maggy.
When the enamelled basin had been fitted into the well of the sink and the old washing glove flung on the side of it he allowed his mother to scrub his ned root into the folds of his ears and into the iices at the wings of his nose.
-- Well, its a poor case, she said, when a uy student is so dirty that his mother has to wash him.
-- But it gives you pleasure, said Stephen calmly.
An ear-splitting whistle was heard from upstairs and his mother thrust a damp overall into his hands, saying:
-- Dry yourself and hurry out for the love of goodness.
A sed shrill whistle, prolonged angrily, brought one of the girls to the foot of the staircase.
-- Yes, father?
-- Is your lazy bitch of a bro yet?
-- Yes, father.
-- Sure?
-- Yes, father.
-- Hm!
The girl came back, making signs to him to be quid go out quietly by the back. Stephen laughed and said:
-- He has a curious idea of genders if he thinks a bitch is mase.
-- Ah, its a sdalous shame for you, Stephen, said his mother, and youll live to rue the day you set your foot in that place. I know how it has ged you.
-- Good m, everybody, said Stephen, smiling and kissing the tips of his fingers in adieu.
The lane behind the terrace was waterlogged and as he went down it slowly, choosing his steps amid heaps of wet rubbish, he heard a mad nun screeg in the nuns
madhouse beyond the wall.
-- Jesus! O Jesus! Jesus!
He shook the sound out of his ears by an angry toss of his head and hurried on, stumbling through the mouldering offal, his heart already bitten by an ache of loathing and bitterness. His fathers whistle, his mothers mutterings, the screech of an unseen maniac were to him now so many voices offending and threatening to humble the pride of his youth. He drove their echoes even out of his heart with aion; but, as he walked down the avenue ahe grey m light falling about him through the dripping trees and smelt the strange wild smell of the wet leaves and bark, his soul was loosed of her miseries.
The rain-laden trees of the avenue evoked in him, as always, memories of the g