One of them, in order
to put his Latin to the proof, had made him translate short passages
from Dilectus and asked him whether it was correct to say: TEMPORA
MUTANTUR NOS ET MUTAMUR IN ILLIS or TEMPORA MUTANTUR ET NOS MUTAMUR IN
ILLIS. Another, a brisk old man, whom Mr Dedalus called Johnny Cashman,
had covered him with confusion by asking him to say which were
prettier, the Dublin girls or the Cork girls.
--He's not that way built, said Mr Dedalus. Leave him alone. He's a
level-headed thinking boy who doesn't bother his head about that kind
of nonsense.
--Then he's not his father's son, said the little old man.
--I don't know, I'm sure, said Mr Dedalus, smiling complacently.
--Your father, said the little old man to Stephen, was the boldest flirt
in the City of Cork in his day. Do you know that?
Stephen looked down and studied the tiled floor of the bar into which
they had drifted.
--Now don't be putting ideas into his head, said Mr Dedalus. Leave him
to his Maker.
--Yerra, sure I wouldn't put any ideas into his head. I'm old enough
to be his grandfather. And I am a grandfather, said the little old man
to Stephen. Do you know that?
--Are you? asked Stephen.
--Bedad I am, said the little old man. I have two bouncing
grandchildren out at Sunday's Well.
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