Peter Gingery laughed, "Can pig's trotters really nourish my brother's hand? His hand isn't a pig's trotter."
"Haven't you heard of like cures like? Could it be that if your brother's left hand is injured and needs nourishing, I have to chop off your left hand to stew it for soup so he can recover?" Jane Sampson retorted unapologetically.
Hmph, Peter Gingery wasn't James Black. She might yield to James Black, but there was no way she would yield to the likes of this kid, Peter Gingery, right?
Peter Gingery could only respond to Jane Sampson's retort with a sheepish grin, muttering to himself that little Jane was getting more and more ferocious.
Once he finished muttering, he remembered to ask, "Little Jane, where are the tea eggs?"
"Oh, I almost forgot, wait a moment, I'll get them." Jane stood up excitedly and scampered back to the kitchen, returning with a small basin in her hands.
