She saw that he was repaying her for being a shoulder-blade to his pride. “I drink to the health of the unborn,” he repeated the saying. He was repaying her for all her scorn of him. “Tom Molloy says, ‘God’s sake, he won’t stay sober.’ I recollect after I got on my costume we all sat down in Tom Molloy’s room to wait till the church was ready, all the singen down and the tableau over, up the street from the church, in the old hotel. Miss Esther What’s-her-name down-stairs promised to call me when it was my time to go on, and we all sat down to a little cards, Tom Molloy, Mike O’Connor, and Ronnie Robinson, uncle to Ruth, he was. Sat down to a few hands of poker. Ronnie poured out the spirits and he poured big measures, and I sat there all dolled up for Santy Claus. ‘Christmas comes but once a year,’ Ronnie said, and then Mike stood up and, solemnly, he meant every word of it too, says, ‘We’ll drink to the health of the unborn.’ Charlotte was not goen out then. She was, you might say, in a delicate condition, and God’s sake! It was you yourself, Theodosia, that was curled up inside her asleep like a little kitten. God’s sake! Mike stood up, solemnly, too, meant every word he said, and out comes, ‘We’ll drink to the health of the unborn.’ Don’t you ever forget that about Mike. Then Ronnie in his turn, ‘I drink to the health of the unbegotten.’ I swear to God he did. After we’d drunk to the health of the unbegotten twice or three times Tom was so drunk he was beside himself and he says, ‘It’ll never do. It’ll never do on earth. He can’t stand up on his feet, let alone walk around a Christmas tree and hand out pretties,’ and we all sat down again to a little cards to steady our nerves. “Tinkle, tinkle, merry bells. I remember the night as well, cold outside, the fire big in the grate, fireworks up the street where the boys were out, good cheer, good friends, and a world new-born. I recall I held two queens and was drawen for a third when up calls Miss Esther and says it’s time to go over, says they’re on the last piece, she can tell by the singen, and says they’ve already begun to light the candles on the tree. Then Tom says, ‘He can’t do it. He’s drunk. God’s sake, there’ll be a holy show if we let him get loose,’ and I called down to tell ’em to wait till I draw another queen, to keep the song on foot till I draw one time more. Well, we went over, and Ronnie laughed so hard he said he was in a paroxysm, and Mike says, ‘A what?’ Mike always was a good friend of mine. I recollect Tom was all in a tremble and he says, ‘It’ll be a holy show.’ Thought I couldn’t do it.”