—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.
— Catholic indeed! repeated Dante ironically. The blackest protestant in the land would not speak the language I have heard this evening.
Mr Dedalus began to sway his head to and fro, crooning like a country singer.
— I am no protestant, I tell you again, said Mr Casey, flushing.
Mr Dedalus, still crooning and swaying his head, began to sing in a grunting nasal tone:
O, come all you Roman catholics
He took up his knife and fork again in good humour and set to eating, saying to Mr Casey:
— Let us have the story, John. It will help us to digest.
Stephen looked with affection at Mr Casey's face which