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Edgar tasted the potatoes, moved his mouth quickly like a rabbit, looked
indignantly at his mother, and said:
"These potatoes are burnt, mother."
"Yes, Edgar. I forgot them for a minute. Perhaps you'll have bread if
you can't eat them."
Edgar looked in anger across at Miriam.
"What was Miriam doing that she couldn't attend to them?" he said.
Miriam looked up. Her mouth opened, her dark eyes blazed and winced, but
she said nothing. She swallowed her anger and her shame, bowing her dark
head.
"I'm sure she was trying hard," said the mother.
"She hasn't got sense even to boil the potatoes," said Edgar. "What is
she kept at home for?"
"On'y for eating everything that's left in th' pantry," said Maurice.
"They don't forget that potato-pie against our Miriam," laughed the
father.
She was utterly humiliated. The mother sat in silence, suffering, like
some saint out of place at the brutal board.
It puzzled Paul. He wondered vaguely why all this intense feeling
went running because of a few burnt potatoes.


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