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1"You must speak to the secretary. It's not my business. I'm a great fellow fol-the-diddle-I-do." "I thought you were a
2lady," said Mr Holohan, walking away from her abruptly. After that Mrs Kearney's conduct was condemned on all hands:
3everyone approved of what the Committee had done. She stood at the door, haggard with rage, arguing with her husband and
4daughter, gesticulating with them. She waited until it was time for the second part to begin in the hope that the
5secretaries would approach her. But Miss Healy had kindly consented to play one or two accompaniments. Mrs Kearney had
6to stand aside to allow the baritone and his accompanist to pass up to the platform. She stood still for an instant like
7an angry stone image and, when the first notes of the song struck her ear, she caught up her daughter's cloak and said
8to her husband: "Get a cab!" He went out at once. Mrs Kearney wrapped the cloak round her daughter and followed him. As
9she passed through the doorway she stopped and glared into Mr Holohan's face. "I'm not done with you yet," she said.
10"But I'm done with you," said Mr Holohan. Kathleen followed her mother meekly. Mr Holohan began to pace up and down the
11room, in order to cool himself for he felt his skin on fire. "That's a nice lady!" he said. "O, she's a nice lady!" "You
12did the proper thing, Holohan," said Mr O'Madden Burke, poised upon his umbrella in approval. GRACE Two gentlemen who
13were in the lavatory at the time tried to lift him up: but he was quite helpless. He lay curled up at the foot of the
14stairs down which he had fallen. They succeeded in turning him over. His hat had rolled a few yards away and his clothes
15were smeared with the filth and ooze of the floor on which he had lain, face downwards. His eyes were closed and he
16breathed with a grunting noise. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. These two gentlemen and
17one of the curates carried him up the stairs and laid him down again on the floor of the bar. In two minutes he was
18surrounded by a ring of men. The manager of the bar asked everyone who he was and who was with him. No one knew who he
19was but one of the curates said he had served the gentleman with a small rum. "Was he by himself?" asked the manager.
20"No, sir. There was two gentlemen with him." "And where are they?" No one knew; a voice said: "Give him air. He's
21fainted." The ring of onlookers distended and closed again elastically. A dark medal of blood had formed itself near the
22man's head on the tessellated floor. The manager, alarmed by the grey pallor of the man's face, sent for a policeman.
23His collar was unfastened and his necktie undone. He opened his eyes for an instant, sighed and closed them again. One
24of gentlemen who had carried him upstairs held a dinged silk hat in his hand. The manager asked repeatedly did no one
25know who the injured man was or where had his friends gone. The door of the bar opened and an immense constable entered.
26A crowd which had followed him down the laneway collected outside the door, struggling to look in through the glass
27panels. The manager at once began to narrate what he knew. The constable, a young man with thick immobile features,
28listened. He moved his head slowly to right and left and from the manager to the person on the floor, as if he feared to
29be the victim of some delusion. Then he drew off his glove, produced a small book from his waist, licked the lead of his
30pencil and made ready to indite. He asked in a suspicious provincial accent: "Who is the man? What's his name and
31address?" A young man in a cycling-suit cleared his way through the ring of bystanders. He knelt down promptly beside
32the injured man and called for water. The constable knelt down also to help. The young man washed the blood from the
33injured man's mouth and then called for some brandy. The constable repeated the order in an authoritative voice until a
34curate came running with the glass. The brandy was forced down the man's throat. In a few seconds he opened his eyes and
35looked about him. He looked at the circle of faces and then, understanding, strove to rise to his feet. "You're all
36right now?" asked the young man in the cycling-suit. "Sha, 's nothing," said the injured man, trying to stand up. He was
37helped to his feet. The manager said something about a hospital and some of the bystanders gave advice. The battered
38silk hat was placed on the man's head. The constable asked: "Where do you live?" The man, without answering, began to
39twirl the ends of his moustache. He made light of his accident. It was nothing, he said: only a little accident. He
40spoke very thickly. "Where do you live?" repeated the constable. The man said they were to get a cab for him. While the
41point was being debated a tall agile gentleman of fair complexion, wearing a long yellow ulster, came from the far end
42of the bar. Seeing the spectacle, he called out: "Hallo, Tom, old man! What's the trouble?" "Sha, 's nothing," said the
43man. The new-comer surveyed the deplorable figure before him and then turned to the constable, saying: "It's all right,
44constable. I'll see him home." The constable touched his helmet and answered: "All right, Mr Power!" "Come now, Tom,"
45said Mr Power, taking his friend by the arm. "No bones broken. What? Can you walk?" The young man in the cycling-suit
46took the man by the other arm and the crowd divided. "How did you get yourself into this mess?" asked Mr Power. "The
47gentleman fell down the stairs," said the young man. "I' 'ery 'uch o'liged to you, sir," said the injured man. "Not at
48all." "'ant we have a little...?" "Not now. Not now." The three men left the bar and the crowd sifted through the doors
49into the laneway. The manager brought the constable to the stairs to inspect the scene of the accident. They agreed that
50the gentleman must have missed his footing. The customers returned to the counter and a curate set about removing the
51traces of blood from the floor. When they came out into Grafton Street, Mr Power whistled for an outsider. The injured
52man said again as well as he could: "I' 'ery 'uch o'liged to you, sir. I hope we'll 'eet again. 'y na'e is Kernan." The
53shock and the incipient pain had partly sobered him. "Don't mention it," said the young man. They shook hands. Mr Kernan
54was hoisted on to the car and, while Mr Power was giving directions to the carman, he expressed his gratitude to the
55young man and regretted that they could not have a little drink together. "Another time," said the young man. The car
56drove off towards Westmoreland Street. As it passed Ballast Office the clock showed half-past nine. A keen east wind hit
57them, blowing from the mouth of the river. Mr Kernan was huddled together with cold. His friend asked him to tell how
58the accident had happened. "I 'an't, 'an," he answered, "'y 'ongue is hurt." "Show." The other leaned over the well of
59the car and peered into Mr Kernan's mouth but he could not see. He struck a match and, sheltering it in the shell of his
60hands, peered again into the mouth which Mr Kernan opened obediently. The swaying movement of the car brought the match
61to and from the opened mouth. The lower teeth and gums were covered with clotted blood and a minute piece of the tongue
62seemed to have been bitten off. The match was blown out. "That's ugly," said Mr Power. "Sha, 's nothing," said Mr
63Kernan, closing his mouth and pulling the collar of his filthy coat across his neck.
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