It's the mate you must have to put
strength in ye, an' Pat would be havin' it three times a day, an' now
it's but once he can; an' that's why he's after the whiskey. The
children an' meself has tay, an' it's all that keeps us up."
"How do you cook your meat, Norah?"
Norah looked at me suspiciously: "Shure, the bit we get don't take
long. I puts it in the pan an' lets it fry till we're ready. Poor folks
can't have much roastin' nor fine doin's. An' by that token it's time
it was on now, if you won't mind, ma'am. The children 'll be in from
school, an' they must eat an' get back."
"I am going in a few moments, Norah. Go right on."
Norah moved aside her boiler, drew a frying-pan from her closet, put in
a lump of fat and laid in a piece of coarse beef some two pounds in
weight. A loaf of bread came next, and was cut up, the peculiar white
indicating plainly what share alum had had in making the lightness to
which she called my attention. A handful of tea went into the tall tin
teapot, which was filled from the kettle at the back of the stove.
"That isn't boiling water, is it?" I ventured.
"It'll boil fast enough," Norah answered indifferently as she pulled
open the draughts, and soon had the top of the stove red hot.
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