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Updated: June 28, 2025
July's found rest at last, says she, 'out in the graveyard; and every time I pass your house I thank the Lord that you've got to pay a good price for your cookin' now, as there ain't a woman in the country fool enough to step into July's shoes.
'How beautiful, I murmured again. It sounded like a poem. Swinburne or de Musset have never stirred me so deeply as did that simple recitation. Elizabeth, seeing that she had an attentive audience, continued, 'Take roast pork, now. Well, I always say there's a lot in the cookin' o' that, with crisp cracklin', apple sauce an' stuffin'
You'll git yer pay jest the same as if ye done the cookin'. It's a big job but I guess ye're ekal to it. I'll agree that they won't nobody try to grab it. Ye may have a little help afore the mast but none abaft." This unexpected proposition calmed the cook. The prospect of full pay and nothing to do pleased him. He surrendered. An excellent dinner was cooked and served that day.
All he cared for was to lose his time in his books; and that's the way this man'll do, and leave you to take the brunt of everything. Your time'll go in cookin' and mendin' and washin' up; and you'll have to be at everybody's beck and call at the end o' that. If there's anything I hate, it's to be in the kitchen and parlour both at the same time." Diana was silent.
I'll own up this toast is good, if I am eatin' it like a heathen. If you can't find anything else to do, you can take to cookin' for a livin'." "No one in town, save yourself, would trust me in their kitchen." "Well, it does seem as if a man had better lose everything rather than his character," said Mr. Growther thoughtfully.
"Whar'd you git dinner, Nick?" she inquired suddenly. "At the judge's." "What did they have?" demanded Jubal from the hall, ceasing the clatter of the churn. "Golly! Wouldn't I like a bite of something!" "I shouldn't mind some strange cookin', myself," said Marthy Burr, shaking her head at one of the children who had come into the kitchen with muddy feet.
"Yum yum yum," said Shorty, tearing one of the chickens in two, and handing a piece to the Deacon, while Si gave him a sweet, crisp hoe cake and a cup of strong coffee. "Now, this's what you might call livin'. Never beat that cookin' in any house that had a roof. Only do that when you've stars in the roof of your kitchen." "It certainly is splendid," admitted the Deacon.
"When de Lord gives us everything in perfecshun, 'specs it would be terrible shifles' of me ter spoil it in de cookin', Miss 'Vadney." "The Lord," repeated Evadne. "You know him too, then? You must, if you live with Pompey." Dyce's face grew luminous. "He is my joy!" she said softly. "And does he make you happy all the time?" asked the girl wistfully. "You seem to have to work as hard as Pompey.
If he can stand Eulaly Sykes's cookin', he must be tough." "Perhaps he will keel over, some day," Phebe suggested. "I should think he would. But then, they say folks like him eat all sorts of things at night suppers, so I suppose he is used to it." She rocked in silence, for a moment; then she went on, "What do you find to do with yourself, now you're home again?
"Huh!" exclaimed little Jim. "I'll soon be makin' a fire." He rushed for the kindling, picking out a swimming raisin as he ran. "They'll see the difference between Andy's cookin' and mine, I'm thinkin'. Dustin' and dishwashin'! Just as if I couldn't cook with the best of them!"
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