“But I don’t like the look o’ that, sir.”
“Of what?”
“That there yonder. That smoke.”
“What, on that little island? No, Jem; it’s steam.”
“Well, don’t you know what that means?”
“No.”
“Then I’ve got something at last as you arn’t got first!” cried Jem excitedly, as he sheltered his eyes from the glare of the sun. “Yes; that’s it’s, sure. Cooking!”
“Cooking? What’s cooking?”
“That place where the steam is, Mas’ Don. I say, you know what they do here? That’s the place where they do it.”
“Do what?”