That
came from the bottles on the shelves. The prefect spoke to Brother
Michael and Brother Michael answered and called the prefect sir. He had
reddish hair mixed with grey and a queer look. It was queer that he
would always be a brother. It was queer too that you could not call him
sir because he was a brother and had a different kind of look. Was he
not holy enough or why could he not catch up on the others?
There were two beds in the room and in one bed there was a fellow: and
when they went in he called out:
--Hello! It's young Dedalus! What's up?
--The sky is up, Brother Michael said.
He was a fellow out of the third of grammar and, while Stephen was
undressing, he asked Brother Michael to bring him a round of buttered
toast.
--Ah, do! he said.
--Butter you up! said Brother Michael. You'll get your walking papers
in the morning when the doctor comes.
--Will I? the fellow said. I'm not well yet.
Brother Michael repeated:
--You'll get your walking papers. I tell you.
He bent down to rake the fire. He had a long back like the long back of
a tramhorse. He shook the poker gravely and nodded his head at the
fellow out of third of grammar.
Then Brother Michael went away and after a while the fellow out of
third of grammar turned in towards the wall and fell asleep.
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