―Well, it is perfectly dreadful to say that not even for one day in the year, said Mrs. Dedalus, can we be free from these dreadful disputes!
Uncle Charles raised his hands mildly and said:
―Come now, come now, come now! Can we not have our opinions whatever they are without this bad temper and this bad language? It is too bad surely.
Mrs. Dedalus spoke to Dante in a low voice but Dante said loudly:
―I will not say nothing. I will defend my church and my religion when it is insulted and spit on by renegade catholics.
Mr. Casey pushed his plate rudely into the middle of the table and, resting his elbows before him, said in a hoarse voice to his host:
―Tell me, did I tell you that story about a very famous spit?
―You did not, John, said Mr. Dedalus.
―Why then, said Mr. Casey, it is a most instructive story. It happened not long ago in the county Wicklow where we are now.
He broke off and, turning towards Dante, said with quiet indignation:
―And I may tell you, ma’am, that I, if you mean me, am no renegade catholic. I am a catholic as my father was and his father before him and his father before him again when we gave up our lives rather than sell our faith.
―The more shame to you now, Dante said, to speak as you do.
―The story, John, said Mr. Dedalus smiling. Let us have the story anyhow.