s by counting the
weekly income. Big money, good broth; little money, thin broth. The
slimmer the resource the fewer the ingredients. The pot was an index to
every condition and the talisman of every family. It was an opportunity
to show off. When Jamie donned a "dickey" once to attend a funeral and
came home with it in his pocket, no comment was made; but if Anna made
poor broth it was the talk of the entry for a week.

Good broth consisted of "kitchen," barley, greens and lithing. Next to
"kitchen" barley was the most expensive ingredient. Folks in Pogue's
entry didn't always have it, but there were a number of cheap
substitutes, such as hard peas or horse beans. Amongst half a dozen
families in and around the entry there was a broth exchange. Each family
made a few extra quarts and exchanged them. They were distributed in
quart tin cans. Each can was emptied, washed, refilled and returned. Ann
O'Hare, the chimneysweep's wife, was usually first on hand. She had the
unenviable reputation of being the "dhirtiest craither" in the
community. Jamie called her "Sooty Ann."

"There's a gey good smell from yer pot, Anna," she said; "what haave ye
in it th' day?"

"Oh, jist a few sheep's throtters and a wheen of nettles."

"Who gethered th' nettles?"

Anna pointed to me.

"Did th' sting bad, me baughal?"

"Ded no, not aany," I said.

"Did ye squeeze thim tight?"

"I put m' Dah's socks on m' han's."

"Aye, that's a good thrick."

Anna had a mouth that looked like a torn pocket. She could pucker it
into the queerest shapes. She smacked her thin blue lips, puckered her
mouth a number of times while Anna emptied and refilled the can.

"If this is as good as it smells," she said as she went out, "I'll jist
sup it myself and let oul Billy go chase himself!"

Jamie was the family connoisseur in matters relating to broth. He tasted
Ann's. The family waited for the verdict.

"Purty good barley an' lithin'," he said, "but it smells like Billy's
oul boots."

"Shame on ye, Jamie," Anna said.

"Well, give us your highfalutin' opinion ov it!" Anna sipped a spoonful
and remarked: "It might be worse."

"Aye, it's worse where there's nown, but on yer oath now d'ye think
Sooty Ann washed her han's?"

"Good clane dhirt will poison no one, Jamie."

"Thrue, but this isn't clane dhirt, it's soot--bitther soot!"

It was agreed to pass the O'Hare delection. When it cooled I quietly
gave it to my friend Rover--Mrs. Lorimer's