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"Hand me a crock," I called, "and I'll get a quart or so of milk, if the calves have left any." When, one handed me a small olla I milked it more than half-full from a dozen cows. I exhibited the milk, offered it to them, and, on their laughingly replying that they were no milk-sops, they preferred wine, I drank most of it.
"I'm always wanting to plant things just where it is." Disputes became so frequent between the boys that at length, by a silent agreement, they avoided the subject altogether, and by degrees the crock ceased to be so constantly in Ambrose's thoughts.
I might point at thee muzzle on just so as I do now even for an hour or more, and like enough it would never shoot thee, unless I pulled the trigger hard, with a crock upon my finger; so you see; just so, Master Pooke, only a trifle harder.
Thus did she bless, and thus was made a blessing, through the loss and absence of that crock of gold.
This seemed, at the time but a merry jest, and Peter felt at once that the Porter was a friendly sort with no nonsense about him. But later the words came back to Peter with a new meaning. Have you ever gone into a farmhouse kitchen on a baking day, and seen the great crock of dough set by the fire to rise?
From Minnie Arkell, whom I met at the door of her own house, I went to Clancy's boarding house. I did not find Clancy then and I went off, but coming back again I found him, and a very busy man he was, with an immense crock of punch between his knees.
That very evening, in the twilight, the crock with its glittering pieces was unearthed for the second time, but with far less labour than at first. "I'm glad it's out of my garden anyway," said David as they went back to the house with it.
Therefore, when her husband, who was in a dreadful state of alarm, asked her what she had done with the gold pieces, she replied, 'Put them where no one will find them, under the sweetmeats, in the crock that stands in the niche by the door.
Wait a minute now till I tell you. It'll taste better, too, after you hear. And into the crock I puts two gallons of rum fine rum it was for a bottom. Every good punch has to have a bottom.
"I know the old crock trotter," scorned the true riding jockey. "Probably old Tim Westmore is hanging around, too. He's in love with that horse." "Is he in love with Hooper, too?" I asked. "Just like I am," said the jockey with a leer. "So you're going to be rich," said I. "How's that?" He leered at me again, going foxy. "Don't you wish you knew!
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