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"Bress his heart!" said Candace, looking up, perplexed. "Wants to see me, does he? Can't nobody hab me till dis yer coffee's done; a minnit's a minnit in coffee; but I'll be in dereckly," she added, in a patronizing tone. "Missis, you jes' go 'long in, an' I'll be dar dereckly."
I have much more to say to you, but my two good Friends and Neighbours, Dominick and Slyboots, are just come in, and the Coffee's ready. I am, in the mean time, Mr. Your Admirer, and Humble Servant, Abraham Froth. You may observe the Turn of their Minds tends only to Novelty, and not Satisfaction in any thing.
"By gad! I didn't want to come, anyhow. I knew the sniveling I'd be let in for. Gimme a healthy woman with some outdoors in her. Gimme " "I ain't going to let out any more, Max; I swear to God I ain't. Sit down, dear, and finish your supper. Looka, your coffee's all cold. Lemme go out and heat it up for you. "I'm done. I'm done before I begin.
"Well," he declared, "when anyone up and says my coffee's only fit for the hog-pen, I'm going to get even with him. I kind of feel I have to. It's up to me." He said nothing further for some little time, and Nasmyth, who fancied that he would sooner or later carry out his amiable intentions, lay prone upon the deck smoking placidly.
Helbeck detected the glance, and saw too that Mrs. Denton's pink face was flushed, and her manner discomposed. "The coffee's noa good," she said abruptly, as she put it down; "I couldn't keep to 't." "No, I'm afraid we disturbed Mrs. Denton dreadfully," said Miss Fountain, shrugging her shoulders. "We got her to bring up all sorts of things for Augustina.
'I think what I thought before, said Mr Brindley. 'It's childish. 'It isn't childish, the other protested. 'It's ugly, but it isn't childish. 'It's childishly clever, Mr Brindley modified his description. He did not ask my opinion. 'Coffee's cold, said Mrs Brindley. 'I don't want any coffee. Give me some Chartreuse, please. Have a drop o' green, Ol? 'A split soda 'ud be more in my line.
Then down by the river Dennie's soprano streamed out, The sun is sot, The coffee's hot, The supper's got. What? Yes! Got! Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base growled, Dennie is sad, The eggs are bad; The Professor's mad At a College lad. Burleigh! Burly! Burlee! Come home! Come home! Come home! "The Kickapoos are on the warpath.
"What else can be done? Come on." And a moment later the bedraggled and dejected company filed into a cheap levee restaurant. "Bring some coffee," Burlingham said to the waiter. Then to the others, "Does anybody want anything else?" No one spoke. "Coffee's all," he said to the waiter.
There were a few regulars, in uniform; there were some Mississippi troopers, and Coffee's Kentucky and Tennessee hunters, in hunting-shirts and jeans trousers; there were volunteers of all sorts from the streets of New Orleans merchants, lawyers, laborers, clerks, and clergymen armed with shot-guns, rifles, and old muskets; there were some criminals whom Jackson had released from prison on condition that they would fight; there was a battalion of free negroes, who were good soldiers; and, finally, there were about twenty Choctaw Indians.
Murfree that is, if you know the way." "Bet I do, 'm, and had a taste and sup myself, but I'm not backward to go again. The coffee's rare good, 'm, an the san'wiches very satisfying. But" in a confidential tone, as they moved slowly through the throng "whoever's a-doing of all this has made one big mistake, ma'am, and that's a fact." "Indeed! How is that?" "Well, it's on the drinks, 'm.
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