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If she gits a premium for puttin' up gardin-sass, I'll warrant there'll be a to-do. An' Hattie'll make it!" "I guess there won't be no set-to about such small potaters," said Mrs. Pike, with dignity. Her broad back had been unrecognized by the herald, careless in her haste. "Hattie's ready an' willin' to divide the premium, if't comes to her, an' I guess Mary'd be, put her in the same place."
"Aye, 'tis a fine marnin'," announced Thomas, "but I were thinkin' 'twould be better to wait over till to-morrow for the trip. After your long voyage 'twould be a bit trying for you to turn back to-day to Fort Pelican without restin' up, and I'm not doubtin' a day whatever'll do no harm to the potaters and things." "I believe you're right, Thomas," and Doctor Joe spoke with evident relief.
He gives me the house and all I can raise on the cleared ground, which is not much just a few potaters, beans, and sich like. Of course, I don't live high like some, just bread and meat, no pie and cake and ice cream. The kids ain't like they used to be, they like goin's on now and then; but when I was a boy I allus tended to my business and didn't keer to be goin' all the time."
Ef that one'll jest make me happy, I'll fold my weary pinions and settle down in a rustic log-cabin and raise corn and potaters till death do us part." Cynthy trembled. Cynthy was a saint, a martyr to religious feeling, a medieval nun in her ascetic eschewing of the pleasures of life. But Cynthy Ann was also a woman. And a woman whose spring-time had paused.
She allows thet pigs is raised, an' potaters, an' even chickens; an' she said, one day, thet ef I insisted on "raisin'" child'en, she'd raise a row. She's a quick hand to turn a joke, Miss Phoebe is. Nobody thet ever lived in Simpkinsville would claim thet rows couldn't be raised, I'm shore, after all the fuss thet's been made over puttin' daytime candles in our 'piscopal church.
"Yes, sir!" proceeded Cap'n Abe who seldom lost the thread of one of his stories, "they was lashed to that stump of a mast and they lived on them potaters scraping 'em fine with their sheath-knives, and husbandin' 'em like they was jewels. One of 'em went mad." "One o' the potaters?" gasped Amiel Perdue. "Who went crazy your brother, Cap'n Abe?" Milt asked cheerfully.
An' whin he told Father Honoré the trouble he had wid himself an' the b'y, that darlin' man just smiled an' says: 'McCann, there's other ways of thankin' God for a good home, an' a lovin' wife, and a foine b'y like yours, than tellin' yer beads an' sayin' your prayers. He said that, he did; an' I say, I'm thankin' God ivery hour in the day that I've got a good husband to swear, an' a cellar to fill wid fuel an' potaters, an' a baby to put to me breast, an' an' it's the same I'm wishin' for you, me dear."
"Yours is the time for rest." "Rest? How you talk!" exclaimed Washy. "A man ought to be able to aim his own pollock and potaters, or else he might's well give up the ship. I tell 'em if I was only back in my young days where I could do a full day's work, I'd be satisfied." Louise had turned up a fiddler with the toe of her boot.
"What be that, now?" asked Eli as Margaret placed a dish of steaming, mealy boiled potatoes upon the table. "Potaters," Thomas announced grandly. "Doctor Joe brings un on the mail boat from where he's been, and onions too. Margaret, peel some onions and set un on for Eli. They's fine just as they is without cookin'." The onions came, and when thanks had been offered Eli tasted his first potato.
"For fourteen days while the Posy Lass was drivin' off shore before an easterly gale, Cap'n Am'zon an' two others, lashed to the stump o' the fo'mast, ex-isted in a smother of foam an' spume, with the waves picklin' 'em ev'ry few minutes. And five raw potaters was all they had to eat in all that endurin' time!" "Five potatoes?" Lawford Tapp cried. "For three men? And for fourteen days?
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