Those jars look nice when the fruit is put up in them, and the
house-wife feels as though she was repaid for all her perspiration over a
hot stove, as she looks at the glass jars of different berries, on the
shelf in the cellar.
The trouble does not begin until she has company, and decides to tap a
little of her choice fruit. After the supper is well under way, she sends
for a jar, and tells the servant to unscrew the top, and pour the fruit
into a dish. The girl brings it into the kitchen, and proceeds to unscrew
the top. She works gently at first, then gets mad, wrenches at it, sprains
her wrist, and begins to cry, with her nose on the underside of her apron,
and skins her nose on the dried pancake batter that is hidden in the folds
of the apron.
Then the little house-wife takes hold of the fruit can, smilingly, and
says she will show the girl how to take off the top. She sits down on the
wood-box, takes the glass jar between her knees, runs out her tongue, and
twists. But the cover does not twist. The cover seems to feel as though it
was placed there to keep guard over that fruit, and it is as immovable as
the Egyptian pyramids. The little lady works until she is red in the face,
and until her crimps all come down, and then she sets it away to wait for
the old man to come home.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34