right, too. But there's things about cookin' that anybody can attind to,
such as havin' kettles and pans clean, and kapin' the fire up when it's
needed, and not roastin' a body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes,
and there's other things," she continued with increasing earnestness.
"There's them as thinks if they've a book or paper stuck about handy,
and them a-poppin' down to read a bit ivery now and then, it shows that
cookin's beneath 'em. And then the meat burns or it sogs and gets tough,
the potatoes don't get the water poured off of 'em in toime, and things
biles over on the stove or don't bile at all, at all, and what does all
that show, Moike? Not that they're above cookin', but that they're
lackin' in sinse. For a sinsible person always pays attintion to what
they're at, but a silly is lookin' all ways but the right wan, and ten
to wan but if you looked inside their skulls you'd foind 'em that empty
it would astonish you. Not that I'm down on readin', but that readin'
and cookin' hadn't ought to be mixed. Now, Moike, if any of these things
I've been tellin' you of happens to your cookin', you'll know where to
put the blame. Don't say, 'I wasn't made to cook, I guess'. That's what
I wanst heard a silly say when she'd burnt the dinner. But jist
understand that your wits must have been off a piece, and kape 'em by
you nixt toime. But what's that n'ise?"

She stepped to the door. A short distance off Jim was trying to get
something away from Barney, who was making up in roars what he lacked in
strength. Up went Mrs. O'Callaghan's hands to curve around her mouth and
form a speaking trumpet.

"Jim, come here!" she called.

Jim began to obey, and his mother, leaving Mike inside to think over her
remarks on cooking, stood waiting for his lagging feet.