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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Nope," replied Hardy, and continued his work in silence. "Cookin' for the outfit?" queried Swope, edging in at the door. "Nope," replied Hardy. "Well, who the hell air ye cookin' fer then?" demanded Swope, drawing nearer. "'Scuse me if I pry into this matter, but I'm gittin' interested." He paused and showed a jagged set of teeth beneath his bristling red mustache, sneeringly.
Si says there's more faculty in cookin' flour food than there is in meat-victuals, 'n' I guess he's 'bout right." It was bedtime, and Timothy was in his little room carrying on the most elaborate and complicated plots for reading the future.
"No, Mammy, I'm cookin' my bird for grandma," the child answered, rejecting all help, "an' I'm goin' to do it all by myself." "Wh', baby honey, your gran'ma ain't comin' before Christmas eve, an' dat's a week off. Your bird ain't goin' keep all dat time, but ne' mine, I'll make Ned ketch you another one."
"But in winter, what Hogan calls another flower iv our industhreel system blooms. In th' winter it's warmer in th' foundhry thin in th' home. There is no hearth as ample in anny man's home as th' hearth th' Steel Comp'ny does its cookin' by.
Half the time is wasted over the cooking by one of you that he might be puttin' in packin' outfit. If I do the cookin' for you, you all'll get on that much faster. Also, the cookin' 'll be better, and that'll make you pack better. And I can pack quite a bit myself in between times, quite a bit, yes, sir, quite a bit."
At the sound of footsteps Yan turned, supposing that one of his companions had come back, but there instead was a big, rough-looking tramp. "Well, sonny, cookin' dinner? I'll be glad to j'ine ye," he said with an unpleasant and fawning smile. His manner was as repulsive as it could be, though he kept the form of politeness. "Where's your folks, sonny?"
A smile stole over her withered countenance as she paused a moment, and her bright eyes softened into a far-away look. This was the substance of the old woman's story. She had wandered a little here and there. Mr. Ryder was looking at her curiously when she finished. "How have you lived all these years?" he asked. "Cookin', suh. I's a good cook. Does you know anybody w'at needs a good cook, suh?
"Who might that young feller be?" asked the engineer, glowering with sudden curiosity, after his long silence, into the face of the grizzled old prospector, who, in the interim, had sat quietly. "Him? That's Dick Townsend, half-owner in the mine," Bill replied. "Half owner? Cookin' for me? Why don't you do it?
W'en I wuz sold ter marster Simpkins, mah second mistress made me a house slave en I wuked only at de big house en mah wuk wus ter nuss en dress de chilluns en he'ps mah missis in her dressin'. De young slaves wuz hired out ter nuss de white chilluns. I wuz hired as nuss girl at seven y'ars ole en started cookin' at ten. I nebber had a chance ter go ter schul.
She is sweet-tempered and lovin a nice, sensible female, never goin in for he-female conventions, green cotton umbrellers, and pickled beats. Otheller is a good provider and thinks all the world of his wife. She has a lazy time of it, the hird girl doin all the cookin and washin. Desdemony in fact don't have to git the water to wash her own hands with.
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