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Jeff, going out to the kitchen for the last course, said to Aunt Dilsey: "Ole boss-man seem lak he's got somethin' on his mind worryin' him this mawnin'." When Jeff returned, with a turn of crisp waffles in one hand and a pitcher of cane sirup in the other, he stared in surprise, for the dining room was empty and he could hear his employer creaking down the hall.
It was up-hill work, of course, for Horace, at first; in fact, during the first evening he could do nothing but sit and admire the pace at which Miss Crisp, followed more haltingly by Booms and Waterford, took down the words of Ivanhoe as fast as Mrs Cruden read them.
"Yes, that's about what you'd be thinking, all right," retorted Dade unemotionally. "Sounds perfectly natural." The tone of him, being unsympathetic, precipitated an argument which flung crisp English sentences back and forth across the cabin.
And a little later six smiling, happy children, and a rosy, smiling maid were seated before a soda counter sipping sweet chocolate, and eating crisp crackers.
Stephen Crisp was a famous preacher. "He had a gift of utterance beyond many" said his brethren in Colchester at the time of his decease.
August was the month for bathing, for yachting, for trawling. Some denizens of the outside world even came to Northbury in August; the few lodging-houses were crammed to overflowing; people put up with any accommodation for the sake of the crisp air, and the lovely deep blue water of the bay.
Tom Staple was a hale, strong man of about forty-five, short in stature, swarthy in face, with strong, sturdy black hair and crisp black beard of which very little was allowed to show itself in shape of whiskers. He always wore a white neckcloth, clean indeed, but not tied with that scrupulous care which now distinguishes some of our younger clergy.
He will track a wounded deer like a bloodhound, and can tell the signs and almost impalpable evidences of an animal's whereabouts, the knowledge of which goes to make up the genuine hunter. When all is still around, and only the distant shouts of the beaters fall faintly at intervals on the ear, his keen hearing detects the light patter of hoof or paw on the crisp, withered leaves.
With an exclamation of wonder she drew forth a crisp ten dollar bill. "Who do you suppose left it there?" she gasped in amazement. "I thought Anne was here. She must have gone out." "Look in the envelope. Perhaps there is a card, too," suggested Arline hopefully. Grace peered into it a second time. Close to the inner surface of the envelope lay a tiny strip of paper.
Mr Crips despised whiskers, but, as shaving was an extravagant indulgence, his slightly cadaverous countenance was often littered with a crisp, pale stubble, not unlike dry grass. To-day Nickie wore a suit of black cloth. It had once been a very imposing suit, and had adorned a great person, but having fallen on evil days, was dusty and rusty, while the knees of Mr.
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