Bloomsday: and still stood the clock at ten to three and still he was speaking but she could not hear a single word and slowly she began to forget her name as if it were the answer to some kind of a puzzle that she was sure was on the tip of her tongue, but kept slipping away until she heard him mention a certain pair of gentlemen he'd had dealings with, scrap dealers the both of them, claimed they were Kerry men, but he was sure from their accents that they were from Tipperary, not that he had a problem if they were from Tipperary, nor even Sligo – though he'd lost a packet at the Sligo Fair a few years back – and these particular two fellas had apparently come into possession – perfectly legal-like, all certified and above board, no question of it being anything but meritorious – of a Casket! and he paused and lit a cigarette and took a sip from his drink, to let the mention of the Casket! sink in until she was forced to ask him what was in the Casket! that made it so special that it had a Capital C and accompanied by an exclamation mark, but she resisted temptation for the first time in her life and let the silence grow, and linger and spread until the whole joint was utterly silent and all eyes were on him and he coughed and finished his cigarette and took another sip of his wine and looked around the room and said: "ye'se are probably wonderin what's in the Casket!" and that broke the spell and the other customers went back to their drinks and their different conversations about meritorious fungus beetles and potato blight or the last match between Roscommon and Galway and games of backgammon and plates of stew and observations of the Barmaid's bosom, and he gazed direct at her and said in a tone of eagerness which matched his eyes: "well, aren't ye?" so she asked him the names of the two scrappies from Mullingar and he said "Phelim MacFarlane and Donal Doubleday and you couldn't find a squarer pair of gentlemen – leaving aside their profession – in Mountjoy Prison," and he leaned forward so that not even Deaf Donovan at the next table could hear and whispered: "and I'm only telling you, Nancy, on account of the kind way you looked after the Mammy when she had that funny turn last Christmas and Mrs Bloom couldn't find a single Doctor in town, every one of the rascals having gone out to the Curragh for a Soiree, but about their shenanigans my lips are sealed, and the Mammy hasn't forgotten your kindness either and there isn't a day goes by when she doesn't say a prayer for you and offer a hope that you may be Blessed with a good husband and many children to look after you in your own old age, not that she's wishing your life away but she's one of that generation who wear a cloak with a hood and carry an umbrella even when the sun is high in the sky or like the Faither who always wore both belt and braces as a kind of double-indemnity against the possibility of the trousers falling down around his knees in the middle of O'Connell Street," and she couldn't help herself from laughing at the image, until she noticed that the clock behind the bar still stood at ten to three and a glance out of the window showed her that sun was still in the same position as when she had entered the pub and she looked at her fob watch and saw that it was still ten to three and she asked him to check the time for her and his pocket-watch confirmed ten to three, at which point the policeman on his Penny Farthing cycled past again, his helmet still held firmly in place by the leather wale chinstrap, so!