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Black Donald precious Father Grey you'll keep quiet, won't you, while we go and get our breakfast? do, now! Come, Cap, come down and pour out my coffee, and by the time we get through, Old Ezy will be here." Capitola complied, and they left the room together.
At the coffee he asked me with admirable simplicity what people said about the affair, and I answered with equal candour. "You too have wondered," he continued. "Of course, but nothing worse," I replied.
Ah'll bring yo'-all's coffee in de mawnin'; yes, sah good-night, sah kee-hee!" And the door closed silently upon the wrinkled old face and the bobbing head. Having nothing else to do, Blount went to bed, but sleep came reluctantly.
Some of it, however, she undoubtedly had heard, and she proved it at this point, breaking in upon Dr. Matthews' musings as he stirred his second cup of coffee: "Dr. Matthews, how do you like being preached at?" "Preached at?" the doctor echoed, with a sleepy air. "Yes, preached at. I'm sure, if you were not asleep this morning, you must have heard yourself all but called by name.
She lifted her head and looked him fearlessly in the eyes: "Yes, I do now that you will have it that way. We are going to have a sleigh-ride to-morrow, and I know you would love the open country, it is so beautiful, and so is " "Ruth! Ruth! you dear child," came a voice "are you two never coming in? the coffee is stone cold." "Yes, Aunt Felicia, right away. Run, Mr.
There was aromatic coffee; there were steaming meat-pies, in which was perceptible the scent of truffles; while modestly, yet all-pervadingly, like the perfume of mignonette in a garden of a thousand flowers, or like the influence of one good man in a community of worldlings, or like the song of the poet in a hard, prosaic age, there was wafted to his senses the steam of fat upland mushrooms.
If you were to ask a stranger whom did he consider the greatest playwright of all times and, instead of Shakespeare or Molière, he were to say Racine, it would be as if one were to ask him whether he took tea or coffee for breakfast and he said arsenic. It would be as though you asked your neighbour what he thought of a beautiful sunset and he said he did not like it.
The woman who opened the door was rather rude," she finished with a sigh. "I don't believe such a thing had ever happened to her before in the whole course of her life." Trent gave her a tender glance across the coffee service. "Probably not," he admitted, "but I wouldn't waste my jelly if I were you." "I sha'n't" she determined sadly, "and that's the thing I miss most of all visiting the sick."
Long hours and hard work in the cattle country mean that a man slips from his saddle into his bunk and to sleep, and from his bunk into his saddle again, with only time to bolt his food and hot coffee infrequently and at irregular intervals.
At last he had gone to Wayne, who was sipping his coffee with as much deliberation as though the troops had nothing on earth to do all day. "Captain Wayne. May I ask if anything further has been done towards getting word back to the regiment?" Wayne looked curiously at his junior a moment.
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