“Och, murder! ’Tis destroyed entirely!” poor Grannie groaned.
“I’ll turn it quick,” said Eileen.
She was in such a hurry she didn’t wait for a fork or stick or anything! She took right hold of the little cakeen, and lifted it out of the kettle with her hand!
The little cake was hot! “Ow! Ow!” shrieked Eileen, and she dropped it right into the ashes! Then she danced up and down and sucked her fingers.
“The Saints help us! The cakeen is bewitched,” wailed poor Grannie. She picked it up, and tossed it from one hand to the other, while she blew off the ashes.
Then she dropped it, burned side up, into the kettle once more, clapped on the cover, and set it where it would cook more slowly.
When that was done, she looked at Eileen’s fingers. “It’s not so bad at all, mavourneen, praise be to God,” she said. “Sure, I thought I had you killed entirely, the way you screamed!”
“Eileen is always burning herself,” said Larry. “Mother says ’tis only when she’s burned up altogether that she’ll learn to keep out of the fire at all!”
“’Twas all the fault of that disgraceful old hen,” Grannie Malone said. “Sure, I’ll have to be putting manners on her! She’s no notion of behaviour at all, at all. Reach the sugar bowl, Larry, avic, and sit down by the table and rest your bones. I’ll have the tea ready for you in a minute. Sit you down, too, Eileen, while I get the potatoes.” She took the tongs and drew out the potatoes, blew off the ashes, and put them on the table. Then she poured the boiling water over the tea-leaves, and set the tea to draw, while she took the cakeen from the kettle.
“’Tis not burned so much, after all,” she said, as she looked it over. “Sure, we can shut our eyes when we eat it.”