The bird of Manhatten

Chapter 26 - in which the bird tries to cook

March 1900
Newsboys Lodge House, Manhattan, New York City
Magpies P.O.V.

Davey's stayin' da night.
Why?
I have no idea. Jack jus' came home yesterday, yellin': "Dave's comin' over tomorrow! Behave!"
So, now da boys is cleanin' up their mess in da bunk- an' livin' room, while I try myself on makin' dinner.
When it comes ta cookin', normally Henry is our man, but he's not done sellin' yet, so da boys decided I should cook, since I's a goil. I actually wanted to decline for I have a terrible headache, but I ain't no cry baby.
Mr. Kloppman lend me a cookbook, but it's still kinda tricky.
'till now it even went pretty well.
I got da stove boinin' wit'out settin' da kitchen on fire an' da water boilin' wit'out spillin' it over my fingers.
But then, all of the sudden, a sharp pain shoots through my head.
My bring my hands up ta hold my head.
So far, so good.
But meanwhile it happens.
My hand touches da boinin' hot pot.
Hurt I draw back, drop da pot by accident an' it falls... on my foot.
I gasp.
Three times in total.
In pain.
Then da door flies open, revealin' a smilin' Henry.
But his smile drops instantly as he sees da mess in da kitchen.
Da pot on da floor wit' beans an' water spilled all over.
"What...?", he asks. But then he sees my distorted face. "Ya ok?"

Henrys P.O.V.

"Ya ok?", I ask half worried, half amused.
"Yeah.", she answers through scattered teeth, holdin' her foot. "Jus' a little accident. Got everythin' under control here."
"So?", I grin. "Den why is the beans all ova the floor?"
"Dat's part of da accident."
"I see... Need help?"
"Dat would be nice."
I smile at her an' reach foa the pot.
"Be careful.", she warns, shakin' her hand like she boined herself. "'Tis still hot."
"Boined yaself?"
She nods.
"Lemme see."
She gives me her hand. It's red an' hot but da boin's not too bad.
"Cool it a bit. Under da water.", I tell her.
She nods an' walks ova ta da bucket we call a sink, where she sticks her hand into da water.
I turn back ta da mess, she made an' begin ta clean it up. Luckily, most of da beans remained in da pot.
"I'll fetch da plates.", Mags announced after a while. She walks ova ta our cupboard, takes out some plates (we don't really have many), some spoons an' forks (of which we don't have many eighter) an' exits da kitchen.

When I join da others half an hour later in da livin' room wit' da food, da table is set up. Someone even brought napkins.
Jack is wanderin' up an' down da room.
"Hey Cowboy.", Race yells ova ta Jack. "Why da long face? We got everythin' perfect. Look, we even got napkins."
Mags, who is sittin' next ta him on da couch, lets out a shaky laugh. "Don't worry, Jack. He'll be impressed."
"Ha, ha.", Jack answers dryly. "Very funny you two."
"Ohhh.", Mags suddenly exclaims. "He's bringin' Sarah ain't he?"
Jack doesn't answer but his face grows red.
"Ha!", Mags says triumphal. "I knew it. His goil's comin'. That's why he wants it to be perfect."
"Oh, cowboy.", Race joins Mags teasin' Jack. "Ya blushin' like mad." Then he begins to laugh.
"Shut up, you two, or I'll ground you.", Jack shots back.
"You wouldn't dare.", they answer in unison, pretendin' ta be shocked, what makes Jack laugh.
"Your lucky you're jus' sweet little kids."
"Oh.", Mags nudges Race. "Ya heard? We'se sweet little kids." They again burst into laughter.
Den it knocks, and every noise dies down.
Dey're here.