--Dinner? said Mr Dedalus. Well, I suppose we had better, what?

--Some place that's not too dear, said Mrs Dedalus.

--Underdone's?

--Yes. Some quiet place.

--Come along, said Stephen quickly. It doesn't matter about the
dearness.

He walked on before them with short nervous steps, smiling. They tried
to keep up with him, smiling also at his eagerness.

--Take it easy like a good young fellow, said his father. We're not
out for the half mile, are we?

For a swift season of merrymaking the money of his prizes ran through
Stephen's fingers. Great parcels of groceries and delicacies and dried
fruits arrived from the city. Every day he drew up a bill of fare for
the family and every night led a party of three or four to the theatre
to see INGOMAR or THE LADY OF LYONS. In his coat pockets he carried
squares of Vienna chocolate for his guests while his trousers' pocket
bulged with masses of silver and copper coins. He bought presents for
everyone, overhauled his room, wrote out resolutions, marshalled his
books up and down their shelves, pored upon all kinds of price lists,
drew up a form of commonwealth for the household by which every member
of it held some office, opened a loan bank for his family and pressed
loans on willing borrowers so that he might have the pleasure of making