Chapter 22 Part One Chapter Three Dear Papa (1)

Dad came home at five o'clock.By this time, both the horse and the buggy were locked in the Frybo stable.Francie's book is finished, and the candy is gone.She saw the evening sun shining on the dilapidated fence, so pale and thin.Her pillow was warmed by the sun and fragrant by the wind. She held it in her hands for a while before putting it back on the small bed.When Dad came back, he sang his favorite song, "Molly Malone."He always sings it when he goes upstairs to remind everyone that he is back. In beautiful Dublin, The girls are beautiful. That's where I met... Before he could sing another line, Francie opened the door with a smile.

"Where's mom?" he asked.He always asks this when he comes in the door. "She and Sissy went to the show." "Oh!" He sounded rather disappointed.He was always disappointed if Katie wasn't there. "I'm at the Crome's tonight, and there's a wedding party going on, and it's pretty cool." He dusted his top hat with the sleeve of his coat, and hung it up. "Are you going to be a waiter, or a singer?" "Do both. Is my waiter's apron clean, Francie?" "Clean is clean, but it has not been ironed. Come, let me iron it."

She set up the ironing board on two chairs and went to heat the iron.While it was heating she took out her apron and sprinkled some water on it.The apron was square, of denim, a little wrinkled at the top, and tied with wide-brimmed cloth straps.While the iron was warming up, she heated up the coffee and poured Dad a cup.Pa drank his coffee and ate the sweet buns they had left.There is work to do in the evening, and the weather is fine, so Dad is in a good mood. "On a day like this, it's like getting a gift for nothing," he said. "Yes, Dad." "How good is hot coffee! How did people live before coffee was invented?"

"I like the smell of coffee." "Where did you get these sweet buns?" "In Winkler's shop. What's the matter?" "They're getting better and better." "There's still some kosher bread left, just one piece." "That's right!" He picked up the bread, turned it over, and saw that there was a trade union label underneath. "Good bread is made by the union bakery." He tore off the label, and suddenly thought of something. "I have a union tag on my apron too!" "Right here, sewn into the seam. I iron it out."

"The label is an ornament," he explained, "like the roses you wear. Look at my badge of the Waiters' Guild." It was a pastel green and white badge buttoned to the lapel of his coat.He wiped it on his sleeve. "Before I joined the union, the boss gave me as much as he wanted. Sometimes they didn't give me a dime. They said that it was enough just to get a tip. Some places even let me go to work, saying that the tip is very generous, The waiter position can be rented out. Later I joined the labor union. You have to pay some dues, but your mother should not be reluctant. If my job is found by the union, the employer must pay me wages, and how much is my tip? Relationships. All industries must organize unions.”

"Yeah, Dad." Francie started ironing.She loves to listen to her father chatting. Francie thought of union headquarters.Once, she went there to give Dad an apron and fare money so he could go to work.She saw him sitting with several men.He was wearing his only formal attire, a tuxedo, with a black top hat cocked pretentiously on one side.He was smoking a cigar when Francie came.Seeing Francie, he quickly took off his hat and threw the cigarette away. "This is my daughter." He said proudly.The waiters looked at the thin little girl in the ragged skirt, and then everyone looked at each other.They're not like Johnny Nolan.They have a full-time waiter job from Monday to Friday, and come out on Saturday nights just to make some extra money.Johnny didn't have a proper job, and he went around fighting guerrillas.