Just then his aunts and his wife came out of the ladies’ dressing-room.
His aunts were two small plainly dressed old women. Aunt Julia was an
inch or so the taller. Her hair, drawn low over the tops of her ears,
was grey; and grey also, with darker shadows, was her large flaccid
face. Though she was stout in build and stood erect her slow eyes and
parted lips gave her the appearance of a woman who did not know where
she was or where she was going. Aunt Kate was more vivacious. Her face,
healthier than her sister’s, was all puckers and creases, like a
shrivelled red apple, and her hair, braided in the same old-fashioned
way, had not lost its ripe nut colour.
They both kissed Gabriel frankly. He was their favourite nephew, the
son of their dead elder sister, Ellen, who had married T. J. Conroy of
the Port and Docks.
“Gretta tells me you’re not going to take a cab back to Monkstown
tonight, Gabriel,” said Aunt Kate.
“No,” said Gabriel, turning to his wife, “we had quite enough of that
last year, hadn’t we? Don’t you remember, Aunt Kate, what a cold Gretta
got out of it? Cab windows rattling all the way, and the east wind
blowing in after we passed Merrion. Very jolly it was. Gretta caught a
dreadful cold.”
Aunt Kate frowned severely and nodded her head at every word.
“Quite right, Gabriel, quite right,” she said. “You can’t be too
careful.”
“But as for Gretta there,” said Gabriel, “she’d walk home in the snow
if she were let.”
Mrs Conroy laughed.
“Don’t mind him, Aunt Kate,” she said. “He’s really an awful bother,
what with green shades for Tom’s eyes at night and making him do the
dumb-bells, and forcing Eva to eat the stirabout. The poor child! And
she simply hates the sight of it!... O, but you’ll never guess what he
makes me wear now!”
She broke out into a peal of laughter and glanced at her husband, whose
admiring and happy eyes had been wandering from her dress to her face
and hair. The two aunts laughed heartily too, for Gabriel’s solicitude
was a standing joke with them.
“Goloshes!” said Mrs Conroy. “That’s the latest. Whenever it’s wet
underfoot I must put on my goloshes. Tonight even he wanted me to put
them on, but I wouldn’t. The next thing he’ll buy me will be a diving
suit.”
Gabriel laughed nervously and patted his tie reassuringly while Aunt
Kate nearly doubled herself, so heartily did she enjoy the joke. The
smile soon faded from Aunt Julia’s face and her mirthless eyes were
directed towards her nephew’s face. After a pause she asked:
“And what are goloshes, Gabriel?”
“Goloshes, Julia!” exclaimed her sister. “Goodness me, don’t you know
what goloshes are? You wear them over your ... over your boots, Gretta,
isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Conroy. “Guttapercha things. We both have a pair now.
Gabriel says everyone wears them on the continent.”
“O, on the continent,” murmured Aunt Julia, nodding her head slowly.
Gabriel knitted his brows and said, as if he were slightly angered:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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