They pour olive oil on it with their
vinegar, and they have it separate--not along with the rest of the
meal. And they eat these olives, too: green things they are,
something like a hard plum, but a friend of mine told me they tasted a
good deal like a bad hickory-nut. My wife says she's going to buy
some; you got to eat nine and then you get to like 'em, she says.
Well, I wouldn't eat nine bad hickory-nuts to get to like them, and
I'm going to let these olives alone. Kind of a woman's dish, anyway,
I suspect, but most everybody'll be makin' a stagger to worm through
nine of 'em, now Ambersons brought 'em to town. Yes, sir, the rest'll
eat 'em, whether they get sick or not! Looks to me like some people
in this city'd be willing to go crazy if they thought that would help
'em to be as high-toned as Ambersons. Old Aleck Minafer--he's about
the closest old codger we got--he come in my office the other day, and
he pretty near had a stroke tellin' me about his daughter Fanny.
Seems Miss Isabel Amberson's got some kind of a dog--they call it a
Saint Bernard--and Fanny was bound to have one, too.
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