fish home by Patrick, a blue fish he's after catchin'. It's in the ice-box now an' we're to have it for dinner, he says, an' I wit' me dinner all planned. I don't mind havin' soup, an' roast, an' salad, an' dessert, but I won't have soup, an' fish, an' roast, an' salad, an' dessert. If there was as many to do the work at our house as there is over here, I wouldn't say nothin', but wit' only me an' George—an' him not so much as touchin' a thing but the silver an' the glasses—it's too much, it is. George 'ud see me buried under a mountain o' dishes before he'd lift a finger to help."
Ellen paused with a pathetic snivel while she wiped her eyes on a corner of her apron. Annie raised her head and regarded her sympathetically.
"Soup, an' fish, an' roast, an' salad, an' dessert, an' three strange min into the bargain, an' all the dishes to wash, an' the fish not even cleaned. True it is that troubles niver come single; they 're married an' has children.
