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Isn't she quick on her feet?" "Grace is such a reckless child," complained the lady on Mrs. Belding's other side. "She's her father all over again and he's got the quickest temper of any man I ever saw. Gets over it right away, you know; but it's a trial to have a man get mad because the coffee's muddy of a morning." "Oh, I know all about that," sighed the fleshy lady, windily.
But he put aside the plate. "I know they're fine, Cynthia," said he in his gentlest way. "But the coffee's all I want, this morning. Another cup, please." Cynthia hesitated, a motherly sort of solicitude in her homely face. "Doctor, do you know you've had four, a'ready? And it's awful strong." "Have I! Well perhaps that's enough. Thank you, Cynthia."
This was formed under the fire of the regular artillerists in a little redoubt in Coffee's front and that of some cannon taken from a man-of-war, placed in a battery on the river and served by sailors. Coffee, seeing the direction of the attack, which was intended to turn his flank, dashed down the line saying to his men: "Hold your fire until you can see their belt-buckles."
My husband takes milk and the boys like sugar, but I like the taste of the tea." At which, from Libbie Liberty: "Oh, Mis' Holcomb just says that to make out she's strong-minded. Plain tea an' plain coffee's regular woman's rights fare, Mis' Holcomb!" And then, after more laughter and Mis' Holcomb's blushes, they awaited: "Mrs. Sturgis?" "Not any at all, thank you.
Bob Pierson, then, paced the room, so absorbed in his dismay and concern, that he was almost happy. "By Jove!" he said, "what a ghastly thing! "Nollie, of all people! I feel perfectly wretched, Thirza; wretched beyond words." But with each repetition his voice grew cheerier, and Thirza felt that he was already over the worst. "Your coffee's getting cold!" she said. "What do you advise?
She'll be in session for an hour yet. She asked me to convey her apologies." He gestured toward the coffee urn. "But the coffee's all made, so you may as well have a cup." Mike was thankful he had not had a dozen cups in the wardroom. "I don't mind if I do, Doctor." He sat down while Fitzhugh poured a cup. "Cream? Sugar?" "Black, thanks," Mike said.
"There's a place in old Archangel, That we never will forget, And of all the cozy places, It's the soldier's one best bet. It's the place where lonely Sammies Hit the trail for on the run, There they serve you cake and coffee, 'Till the cake and coffee's done. And they know that after eating, There's another pleasure yet, So to show how they are thoughtful, They include a cigarette.
"I'm going to ask you to see that my horse is fed and watered," he requested evenly. "And I reckon you'd better eat your own lunch, yourself." But the man behind him had already anticipated that suggestion. Through a generous bite of sandwich he made answer. "I'll see that he is taken care of," he called cheerfully. "See you later, Mr. O'Mara Pshaw, the coffee's cold!"
Of course both the laggards were up and ready by the time the call to breakfast was heard in the land. It may be that the smell of the eggs and bacon frying and the aromatic coffee's bubbling had much to do with arousing them. While they were eating who should appear but the hired man of Farmer Brush. He had a big basket on his arm, also a note for the scout master.
Then Barry Whalen saw him glance searchingly at his master's face in a mirror, and again that baleful light leaped up in his eyes. When he had left the room, Barry Whalen said, impulsively: "Byng, it's all damn foolery your keeping that fellow about you. It's dangerous, 'specially now." "Coffee's good, isn't it? Think there's poison in it?" Byng asked with a contemptuous little laugh.
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