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But it was very thoughtful of you to wait " "Aunt, the coffee's boiling over!" The warning was distinctly audible and, with a gesture of one who abandons an untenable position, Mrs. Sykes retreated upon the kitchen. The visitor watched her flight with mild amaze. "I suppose I should seem curious if I were to ask why the excellent Mrs. Sykes imperils her immortal soul in your behalf?

He looked about him, as if expecting to recognize someone; and as they made their way to Dougal's counter, a big fellow dressed in the manner of a dock laborer stepped up to the Chief Inspector and clapped him on the shoulder. "Have one with me, Mike," he said, winking. "The coffee's good." Kerry bent towards him swiftly, and: "Anybody here, Jervis?" he whispered. "George Martin is at the bar.

I don't suppose it ever saw a cow do you? The coffee's pretty bad, isn't it? But wait until we get home! I can make lovely coffee if you'll get me a percolator. You will, won't you? And I learned now to make the most delicious fruit salad, just before I left. A cousin of Mrs. Forman's taught me how. Could you drink another cup, dear?"

I hadn't no idee cream spiled coffee so. Why, this coffee's the best stuff I ever drunk. Beats maple sap, or cider through a straw, all holler. That's good enough for boys. This 's what men and soldiers drink."

Black Boy watched him viciously, with white gleams in his eyes, and winced at sound of the switch. But before Torode had made up his mind, Jeanne Falla's sharp voice called from the gate, "Now then, you two, the coffee's getting cold. Come in and eat while you have the chance."

With her turning the whole expression of his eyes had changed. Incredulous amazement had replaced his smiling ease. "Would you care to come along through the woods to my shanty, Miss McDonald?" he said, almost diffidently, at last. "Maybe I've a cup of coffee there. And I'd say coffee's the most welcome thing on earth in these forests.

The tears started to her eyes as she crossed the room. In the kitchen Peggy was turning cakes on the smoking griddle, her cheeks glowing from her exertion over the blazing fire. "Here, Ruth. Watch these cakes, will you, while I see to the hash? I wonder if those boys have got enough dishes on the table to eat out of. And push back the coffee pot please. The coffee's done, anyway."

"Coming, gran', right away now," replied the child. "The coffee's hot, too. Don't it smell go-o-od? But there's only one " "What?" queried the voice. "Nothing," said the child. She took a single piece of bread from a box, toasted it for a moment, put it on a plate, poured a cup of coffee, dished out a mess of the porridge, and carried it all into the next room.

When he was almost dressed and the sun was high in the heavens and its power was beginning to warm the night-chilled valley, a stone was flung into his tent. "Come out, you lazy beggar! The coffee's getting cold." It was Lampton's voice and Lampton's nicety of aim.

We'll all feel better for something to eat," said Jack. "I think Tom could work faster if he would take time now for a sandwich." "You're right, perhaps, Jack," returned Colin. "Although we had better wait for a full meal till we get in the air." "Here's luck, boys!" cried Jack a minute afterwards. "What have you found now?" asked Tom, without looking up. "Why, the coffee's still hot.