bowl of cabbage before him on the table and a bloody big spoon like a shovel. He takes up a wad of cabbage on the spoon and pegs it across the room and the poor devils have to try and catch it on their plates: 65, catch your cabbage.”

Everyone laughed again: but Mr Kernan was somewhat indignant still. He talked of writing a letter to the papers.

“These yahoos coming up here,” he said, “think they can boss the people. I needn’t tell you, Martin, what kind of men they are.”

Mr Cunningham gave a qualified assent.

“It’s like everything else in this world,” he said. “You get some bad ones and you get some good ones.”

“O yes, you get some good ones, I admit,”