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grate and the green ivy and red holly made you feel so happy
and when dinner was ended the big plum pudding would be
carried in, studded with peeled almonds and sprigs of holly,
with bluish fire running around it and a little green flag fly-
ing from the top.
It was his first Christmas dinner and he thought of his
little brothers and sisters who were waiting in the nursery,
as he had often waited, till the pudding came. The deep low
collar and the Eton jacket made him feel queer and oldish:
and that morning when his mother had brought him down
to the parlour, dressed for mass, his father had cried. That
was because he was thinking of his own father. And uncle
Charles had said so too.
Mr Dedalus covered the dish and began to eat hungrily.
Then he said:
—Poor old Christy, he’s nearly lopsided now with rogu-
ery.
—Simon, said Mrs Dedalus, you haven’t given Mrs Rior-
dan any sauce.
Mr Dedalus seized the sauceboat.
—Haven’t I? he cried. Mrs Riordan, pity the poor blind.
Dante covered her plate with her hands and said:
—No, thanks.
Mr Dedalus turned to uncle Charles.
—How are you off, sir?
—Right as the mail, Simon.
—You, John?
—I’m all right. Go on yourself.
—Mary? Here, Stephen, here’s something to make your

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