4
M.: I can’t make a pudding of wather either, an’ the flour near done at us an’ all.
Jim: Shove a tas’ of Indian meal in, Mammie. That’s what they call Johnny Cake to in the States; we were readin’ about it in school.
M.: I’m thinkin’ it's a tas’ of the Doctor you’ll be wantin’ next day; but maybe it will help too. [Goes to crock.] See can you find some raisins in the drawer, Maggie. There were a few in a lil bag if they havn’t been took at you an’ Jim.
Maggie [rummaging, finds bag and counts out]: Wan–two–three–four–five!
M.: That’ll do fine. One for each of us an’ wan over. My word, I hope we’ll not be proud!
Maggie [still rummaging]: An’ what’s this at all? Curran’s too. There’s near a teacup-full. An’ there’s some dhry crusses in too.
M.: Give them here an’ I’ll spill a dhrop of wather from the kettle on them to soften them.
Mixes all in panmug.
Gr.: We mus’ all put a stir to it so we’ll get luck if we don’t get pudding.
All stir in turn.
M.: Easy, easy Jim; she’ll be all stirred away. [Exit Jim, whistling.] Well she’s comin’ to, but she’ll be wantin’ sugar bad. Praps there’s a tas’ of thraycle lef’. Find a cloth, Maggie. [Maggie brings tablecloth.] Tut, tut, that’s too big. There’s only a lil tas’ all roun’, an’ you mus’ be takin’ a good sup of porridge in the morning that you wont be too hungry for your dinners.
Jim [coming in with can]: I can’t hardly get no milk from the cow, Mammie–an’ there’s some quare thing in the haggart, too. I don’t like goin’ out.
M.: What quare thing is there on you? It’s jus’ the snow an’ the light of the stars is makin’ things through others.
Jim: It’s makin’ a quare surt of noise, too.
