“He owns that hooker?”
“Well,” said Jude suddenly, as if waking from a reverie, “this won’t boil potatoes—I’ve got to get dinner ready. Come ’long and help if you’re willin’.”
There was half a sack of potatoes in the galley. She set the stove going, and then, on her knees before the open sack, she sent him to fetch half a bucket of water from overboard. He found the bucket with a rope attached, brought the water, and filled the potato kettle, then he brought more water for the washing of the potatoes.
She did the washing squatting on her heels before the bucket.
“Where did you get them from?” asked Ratcliffe.
“Get which?”
“The potatoes.”
“Bought them,” said Jude; then, as though suddenly smitten by rectitude, “No, we didn’t, nuther: we kidooled them out of a fruiter.”
“What’s a fruiter?”