“Aunt Ishie proved to be an excellent cook. Over a fire of wood fragments she had prepared a kind of mutton hash, with cut-up potatoes in it. ‘Where do you get your meat and ’taters, Aunt?’ Is wanted to know. ‘There’s no market round here, nor nothing; you must have to go a precious long way.’ Aunt Ishie smiled her gentle inward smile and said, ‘Well, my dear, we have secret neighbours. But I will tell you about the Warren some other time.’ Grandfather Twite was now properly dressed in a black j...acket, shiny with age, a waistcoat, open over a workman’s shirt of ample cut and coarse cotton, but perfectly clean, and a woollen cravat round his aged neck. He still wore the red-and-green slippers. Noticing the direction of her gaze, he said to Is: ‘Two slaves carry me all day For not a penny of pay I make them work as I think best They stand empty while I rest.’ As Aunt Ishie handed him a plate of hash, he smiled fondly at her; it was plain that the pair were deeply attached.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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