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An' love's wings hover o 'er the little lambs an' the bullfrogs in the pond an' the dicky birds in the trees. What sweetness to lie in the grass, the lap of bounteous earth, eatin' apples in the Garden of Eden, an' chasin' away the snakes an' dreamin' of Thee, Sweet-h-e-a-r-t "
"You ain't eatin' a thing," said Lou, and this bold boy in the city, but timid now, dropped a piece of bread, burnt himself with coffee and spluttered that never in all his life had he eaten so much.
And I reckon there never was no better dried prunes and dried apricots ever thrown across a mule's back than I got. Why, they taste as if you was eatin' 'em right off the bushes! And Mexican beans! Hey, look at these! Talk about beans and sowbelly, how would these do?"
"It is pretty sure," said Henry, "that no savage was lingering about when I fired the rifle, because we would have heard something from him by this time." "You are shorely right," said Shif'less Sol. "Jim, give me another strip. My appetite hez took a fresh hold ez I'm eatin' now with a free mind." "Here you are, Sol," said Long Jim.
So's Rhoda my darkie lass. They've taken on a bit. And then they took to religion for comfort. Old Gammon goes on eatin' of the dumplins. Hey! what a queer old ancient he is. He seems to me to belong to a time afore ever money was. That Mr. Robert's off...never been down there since he left, 'cause my darkie lass thought herself too good for him. So she is! too good for anybody.
"You ain't eatin' much," she suggested. "I'm not very hungry." "Be you sick, Miss Thorne?" "No not exactly. I've been out in the sun and my head aches," she replied, clutching at the straw. "Do you want a wet rag?" Ruth laughed, remembering an earlier suggestion of Winfield's. "No, I don't want any wet rag, Hepsey, but I'll go up to my room for a little while, I think. Please don't disturb me."
They wouldn't have nothin' whatever to do with the ordinary chickens we brought in for eatin' purposes, but stood around lookin' bored when there wasn't no sport doin'. They got to be just like that Four Hundred you read about in the papers. It was one continual round of grasshopper balls, race meets, and afternoon hen-parties. They got idle and haughty, just like folks. Then come race suicide.
For'ard she's as bare as a bone, as any decent ship ought to be, and yet look at 'em, rolling hog fat. And by rights they ought to a-quit eatin' a week ago." Yes, it is certainly mutiny. Collecting water from the leaders of the chart-house in a shower of rain this morning, Buckwheat exposed himself, and a long, lucky revolver-shot from for'ard caught him in the shoulder.
"Got some deelicious steak-and-kidney pie today," the cook announced, setting it out. "Swell," Tom said absent-mindedly. Chow frowned but left without interrupting the young inventor. Twenty minutes later the cook poked his head into the laboratory again. Tom had not yet touched his lunch. "Brand my vitaminnies, start eatin', boss!" "Sure, Chow."
It was the first time she had ever come into contact for more than a passing moment, with decent surroundings and orderly living, and her surprises were endless. "Say, do these guys make you put on airs like this all the time?" she asked incredulously of her table-companion. "Like what?" "Like eatin' with a fork, an' washin' every day, an' doin' yer hair over whether it needs it or not?"
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