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"I'm saying what I've said before that I've scratched my name on my plate, and I won't eat off this rusty, battered kettle-lid." He held it up as if to shy it at the Boy. The young fellow turned with a flash in his eye and stood taut. Then in the pause he said quite low: "Let her fly, MacCann." But MacCann thought better of it. He threw the plate down on the table with a clatter.
Doubtless the actual presence of "spirits" is the cheapest way of accounting for the phenomena. But one might as well call in "spirits" to explain the dancing of a kettle-lid. Not till every natural hypothesis has been exhausted is the scientific observer entitled to call in the supernatural.
I'm afraid I'm not in the humour. But she would have him do it. And it was really awfully funny. He had to do it. You know what he did. He used to take a table-napkin, and put it on with one corner over his forehead, and the rest hanging down behind, like her veil thing. And then he sent for the kettle-lid. He always had the kettle-lid, for that little crown of hers. And then he impersonated her.
"Put yer whole weight on it, then, and don't waste yer strength in talkin'. Ye know yer own strength, and I know the strength of Indian meal when hot water gits at it, and ef the ladle don't slip or the kettle-lid split it's about nip and tuck atween ye." "Old man," yelled Bill, as he put his whole weight on the ladle handle, "this lid has lifted again. Get a stick and come here and help me."
We shall discuss it fully in the chapter on the causes of Anti-Semitism. Everybody is familiar with the phenomenon of steam-power, generated by boiling water, which lifts the kettle-lid. Such tea-kettle phenomena are the attempts of Zionist and kindred associations to check Anti-Semitism.
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