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"He an' yo' pa made out to store 'em last year, an' when I went to look in the first barrel, the last one of 'em had rotted." "Let them rot," said Nicholas harshly. "I be damned if I'd care. You don't eat them, anyway." "I reckon if I was a man I might consarn myself 'bout the things that tickle my own palate an' 'taters ain't one of 'em," was his stepmother's retort.
"Say! you'd ought to have somethin' besides your fingers ter scratch around them plants." "Yes, and a pair of old gloves, Marty," agreed Janice, ruefully. "Huh! Ain't that a girl all over? Allus have ter be waited on. I wisht you'd been a boy cousin I jest do! Then we'd git these 'taters done 'fore night." "And how about getting the carrots weeded, Marty?" she returned, laughing at him.
"These muffins are very good," said Miss Minerva patiently. "Did you ever eat any bobbycued rabbit?" he asked. "Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been eatin' chit'lins, an' sweet 'taters, an' 'possum, an' squirrel, an' hoecake, an' Brunswick stew ever sence we's born," was his proud announcement. "Use your napkin," commanded she, "and don't fill your mouth so full."
I ain't forgot the year o' the fever an' an' well, yo' know who took care o' me day an' night till I saw faces an' knew 'em! What's a matter o' a hen o' two an' a sack o' taters when lined up agin that fever spell? I tell yo', Nella-Rose, if yo' say thar war three dozen aigs, thar war three dozen aigs, an' we'll bargain accordin'!" And now the dimples came slowly to the relieved face.
With the stove there is not that roasting of the face and hands, nor confused jumble of pots and pans, inseparable from a kitchen fire; but upon the neat little polished thing, upon which there is nothing to be seen but a few bright covers, you can have the constituents of a New Brunswick breakfast, "cod-fish and taters," for twice laid, fried ham, hot rolls, and pancakes, all prepared while the tea kettle is boiling, and experience whilst arranging them no more heat than on a winter morning, is quite agreeable.
"'Great big taters on sandy land, Get thar, Eli, if you can. "The next thing I'm aware of, thar's a whoop an' a yell outside. We- alls wakes up all except the infant, who's wide awake all along an' yere it is; four o'clock in the mornin', an' the mother has come. Comes over on a speshul buckboard from the station where that old inebriate, Monte, drove off an' left her.
The old posting inn remains to-day as it was when the book was written, and if the kitchen as such is not on view any longer, the same room turned to other uses is there for the faithful disciple to meditate in and visualize the scene for himself; and no doubt he will find that the inn is as famous now for its "French beans, 'taters, tarts and tidiness" as it used to be.
"I seed 'er down the meadow branch just now," broke in her husband, who sat smoking his clay pipe on the door-step. "She was hard at it, pickin' flowers as usual. I swear I never seed the like. That gal certainly takes the rag off'n the bush. I believe she'd let 'possum an' taters git cold to pick a daisy.
We git plenty of cat-fish, buffalo-fish, yellow perch, and bass, and sell them at the little towns along the river. Then in summer we hire a high flat ashore, not a flatboat, I mean a bit of land along the river, and raise a crop of corn, 'taters, and cabbage. We have plenty of shooting, and don't git much fever 'n ager."
No, the taters ain't over plenty," continued the old man, peering into the pot, and sinking his voice to a whisper, "but there wasn't but fifteen in the bag, and the woman took twelve of 'em fur her kittle, and ye can't make three taters look act'ally crowded in two gallons of soup, can ye, Bill?"
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