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The one you have just seen pass will probably dress and redress three times this evening, as a princess, a peasant-girl, a Tyrolese; by which she will earn about two hundred francs a month." "She is better dressed than my prefect's wife." "If you should go to her house," said Bixiou, "you would find there a chamber-maid, a cook, and a man-servant.
Knowing that the end was so near, she became rather solicitous. "Will you go over and get some canned peaches?" she asked Hurstwood, laying down a two-dollar bill. "Certainly," he said, looking in wonder at the money. "See if you can get some nice asparagus," she added. "I'll cook it for dinner." Hurstwood rose and took the money, slipping on his overcoat and getting his hat.
Next morning I was sent for by the Major and dispatched to the wagon lines on an errand; at that time I was fulfilling the duties of a runner for our unit; he also told me to have a lookout for the cook while there and make some inquiries about him. I saluted and left.
The countess overcame her difficulty by consenting that Murray the man cook should be hired for a given time, with the distinct understanding that he was to take himself off with the rest of the guests, and so great was her ladyship's sense of the importance of the negotiation, that she absolutely despatched Griffiths to Dublin to arrange it, though thereby she was left two whole days in solitary misery at Grey Abbey; and had to go to bed, and get up, she really hardly knew how, with such assistance as Lady Selina's maid could give her.
He says he wants a little rest and peace, and he's darned if he's going to run around evenings. Not much, he isn't! But he doesn't object to her making a special effort to cook all those little things that he's been longing for on the road. Oh, there'll be a seat in Heaven for every traveling man's wife though at that, I'll bet most of 'em will find themselves stuck behind a post."
Her crew sprang into the rigging and chains, answered us with three as loud, to which we, after the nautical custom, gave one in return. I took my last look of their familiar faces as they got over the rail, and saw the old black cook put his head out of the galley, and wave his cap over his head.
His private life was honorable and happy, his friends were many and among the chosen ones of the time, and he had the happiness of seeing his work accepted and rated at something like its true worth before he left it. By CLARENCE COOK
Now, I say you needn't say anything except to cook but I just want to take a look round Mrs. Carswell's room. Which is it?" The cook, who kept the kitchen door open so as not to lose anything of these delightful proceedings, came forward. Both accompanied Starmidge upstairs to show him the room he wanted.
The waiter, whose wife was the cook, ducked his head with a grin confirmatory of his young mistress' shrewd suspicion, and vanished to obey her orders, never dreaming but she wanted the edibles for her private consumption. He enjoyed late and hot suppers, and why not she?
"There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll get at this time of day." Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook was in too vicious a humor to give her anything to eat with it. It was always safe and easy to vent her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her attic.
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