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Did she think she was gwine to come down hyeah an' skeer me, huh, uh? Whaih's dat fryin' pan?" The man of the house hears the rustle of his wife's skirts as she beats a retreat and he goes upstairs and into the library whistling, "See, the Conquering Hero Comes." His name was Patsy Barnes, and he was a denizen of Little Africa. In fact, he lived on Douglass Street.
I had been expectin' him for over three weeks every day. But in all the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, there wuzn't another day that would satisfy him; he had got to come on jest that day, jest as I wuz fryin' my nut cakes for dinner. I tried to put him off till another day. But no! He said it wuz his last trip, and he must have his rags.
'An' to have to be fryin' mate ondher his very nose, an' the kitchen in the castle is a good quarther of a mile from the dinin' parlour, anyhow; an' all our chaney is made of wood, barrin' the couple of plates; an' our glasses is nothin' but cows' horns. An' sorra a bit of a table-cloth, unless I spread one of the sheets. An' to sit on shtools for want of chairs.
"The floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that is pale sometimes; and the utenshils, oh, if the fire didn't purify 'em now and ag'in, all the scrubbin' in the world wouldn't, they was past that. Whenever the door was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled round arter them, bangin' them with a fryin' pan, till she seemed out o' breath.
The Widdy Bourke's thatch was set in a blaze, "and it was a livin' miracle that the whole of them wasn't frizzled up like a pan of fryin' herrin's." It may have been ten days or so after this that a good many of the neighbours had dropped in one evening at Mrs. Doyne's.
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