"And lumps in them at that! I've not much patience with potatoes or the world; but if you're liking them, take some more."
They all took part in clearing off the course of meat and vegetables, and then Hertha served a dessert of her own making, a fluffy-looking pudding of orange and custard and meringue.
"And did you think I cooked this?" said Kathleen. "Come now and own up that in cooking the South beats the Irish."
"The Germans are good cooks," said Hertha. "Perhaps Mr. Applebaum will cook the dinner for us some day."
"A man cook the dinner?" the Irishwoman said in astonishment; and with a touch of resentment, "That's a woman's work."
"Don't men cook here?" Hertha asked. Then, turning to the man present, "Don't men cook in Germany?"
"Miss Hertha," Mr. Applebaum made answer, "I don't know any more about that than you do. I've never been to Germany and my mother was an American who asked me only to make the fire and bring in the wood."
"You can take it from me," said Kathleen, "that the women do the cooking and the housework. Did you ever have a man cook for you?"
"Yes," Hertha answered, "my brother."
"Just like a nigger," commented Kathleen.