“Now,” says Poppy, “we’re all ready to go to work.”
Old Butch started across the run and stopped.
“By the way, you hain’t up an’ spent all your money, be you?”
“I should say not.”
“Um.... An’ it was to be three-fifty a day, you said.”
“Three dollars and fifty cents a day,” nodded Poppy. “And you get your pay every night, if you wish.”
“In cash?”
“Cash or check. Whichever way you say.”
“Well, I think I’ll take the cash. Fur I kain’t make it seem right in my mind that they’s anything sartin ’bout my pay in workin’ fur two boys.”
The first step in pickle making, we learned, was to wash and sort the cucumbers. So we took out those that we thought were too big or too small. I helped to scrub the cucumbers with a hand brush. Then we rinsed them in several changes of water. Having bought two metal tubs, we scrubbed these as clean as a whistle and filled them with salt water, after which we put the cucumbers to soak in the “brine,” as the pickle maker called it.