The woman had a quick ear, and caught up phrases whenever she heard English
spoken. As we rose to go, she opened her wooden chest and brought out a
bag made of bed-ticking, about as long as a flour sack and half as wide,
stuffed full of something. At sight of it, the crazy boy began to smack
his lips. When Mrs. Shimerda opened the bag and stirred the contents with
her hand, it gave out a salty, earthy smell, very pungent, even among the
other odours of that cave. She measured a teacup full, tied it up in a bit
of sacking, and presented it ceremoniously to grandmother.
`For cook,' she announced. `Little now; be very much when cook,' spreading
out her hands as if to indicate that the pint would swell to a gallon.
`Very good. You no have in this country. All things for eat better in my
country.'
`Maybe so, Mrs. Shimerda,' grandmother said dryly. `I can't say but I
prefer our bread to yours, myself.'
Antonia undertook to explain. `This very good, Mrs. Burden'--she clasped
her hands as if she could not express how good--'it make very much when you
cook, like what my mama say. Cook with rabbit, cook with chicken, in the
gravy--oh, so good!'
All the way home grandmother and Jake talked about how easily good
Christian people could forget they were their brothers' keepers.
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