Joanna. I niver does any thing common, miss; all I cooks is in the fust style. I can make Meringo pies that would melt in your mouth, Charlotte Russians, and Blue Munge, too.
Emma. Indeed! you seem quite like an adept in cooking.
Joanna. I don’t know what an adipt is; but if you mean I’m a good cook, I am that. Ye ought to see the fine roast pig I cooked the other day; sich a handsome baste was niver set before on a gintleman’s table, I’ll warrant.
Mrs. Mervin. You seem to despise common cooking. I have very little else done in my family. We live quite plainly, and I hardly think you would suit me.
Joanna. Well, now, ma’am, we won’t let the cooking come betwixt us. I can cook plain, if I like; so, if ye plaze, I’d like to come and try.
Mrs. Mervin. Can you bring me a certificate of good character from the lady who last employed you?
Joanna. A stifkit! What’s that, shure?
Mrs. Mervin. A paper, stating what character you bear.
Joanna. Indade, ma’am, I niver carries my charactercher round in a dirty piece of paper, that’s liable to be torn up any day. I thinks more of meself than that.
Mrs. Mervin. Very well; I cannot take you, unless you can bring me such a paper.