“I love that too.”
“There comes Miss Bassett. Let’s go meet her so she won’t have to get off the drive. These frozen ruts are rough.”
All the way to town Mimi kept wondering if the beans were softening. She preferred to soak them all night but as Cissy so often said, circumstances alter cases. She had left them in warm, soft water. That would help. It would be better to soak them less and cook them longer rather than take a chance on cooking them in the morning and hoping they’d be done by noon. Long slow cooking was best.
Back at Sheridan and in the kitchen, Mimi took charge again.
First she drained the water off of the beans. Then she poured part of them into a crock. She sliced the salt pork in thin chunks and laid it in carefully. Then she sprinkled a layer of brown sugar, ripe tomato ketchup and salt. More beans—meat, sugar, salt, ketchup. On and on until the great kettle was half full and the crock was empty. Then she poured in hot water until the kettle was full. The beans had not softened much. Mimi was worried; she had given Miss Bassett her word.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do; leave them on the stove to simmer until Miss Bassett blows for us. That way they’ll be hot through and through and will get a good start.”
“Do you suppose any one has caught on?”
“I hope not.”
No one found out, although several wondered what Betsy and Mimi were doing, going out with Miss Bassett for the second time. What could be in that huge kettle which was so heavy one of the kitchen negroes had to lift it on the running board?
Miss Bassett drove slowly but Mimi held her breath. Mustn’t “spill the beans” she cautioned. She had the window rolled down and was holding on to the handle. Once or twice on curves the pot pulled and swung out dangerously near slipping off but eventually they managed to deposit the kettle near the bean hole.