oct 12, 2011
“The sum was done.
—It is very simple, Stephen said as he stood up.
—Yes, sir. Thanks, Sargent answered.
He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper
and carried his copybook back to his bench.
—You had better get your stick and go out to the
others, Stephen said as he followed towards the door the
boy’s graceless form.
In the corridor his name was heard, called from the
—Run on, Stephen said. Mr Deasy is calling you.
He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry
towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife.
They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy came away
stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet. When he
had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending
called to him. He turned his angry white moustache.
—What is it now? he cried continually without
—Cochrane and Halliday are on the same side, sir,
—Will you wait in my study for a moment, Mr Deasy
said, till I restore order here.
And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old
man’s voice cried sternly:
—What is the matter? What is it now?
Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their
many forms closed round him, the garish sunshine
bleaching the honey of his illdyed head.”
A new character enters the stage in the longest and least complicated passage yet.