" It was
kitchen stuff that he asked the cooks at the different houses where he
delivered milk, to save for him. They threw rotten vegetables, fruit
parings, and scraps from the table into a tub, and gave them to him at
the end of a few days. A sour, nasty mess it always was, and not fit to
give any creature.
Sometimes, when he had not many "peelings," he would go to town and get
a load of decayed vegetables, that grocers were glad to have him take
off their hands.
This food, together with poor hay, made the cows give very poor milk,
and Jenkins used to put some white powder in it, to give it "body," as
he said.
Once a very sad thing happened about the milk, that no one knew about
but Jenkins and his wife. She was a poor, unhappy creature, very
frightened at her husband, and not daring to speak much to him. She was
not a clean woman, and I never saw a worse-looking house than she kept.
She used to do very queer things, that I know now no housekeeper should
do. I have seen her catch up the broom to pound potatoes in the pot. She
pounded with the handle, and the broom would fly up and down in the air,
dropping dust into the pot where the potatoes were.
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