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That roast of veal was just as good meat as I could find in market; and I don't know what any sensible party would want better than that prune pie. "Well! I hope I won't have to keep a boarding house all my life. It's a thankless task. An' it ties a body down so.
His slice of pie, which he had not had time to finish, was still in his hand. "'Where are we at? he asked her, curiously. "'I am sure I don't know, answered Mrs. Jonathan, beginning, woman-like, to cry, now that the danger was over. "Jonathan began to finish his pie, which the cyclone had interrupted. Between mouthfuls he gave quick glances of surprise at the house.
Every man on the board, except the surgeon and the president, had some particular axe to grind. One wished to be sheriff; another, county clerk. The five gentlemen of leisure wished to stay where they were. When a pie was cut, these five held the knife. It was their fault, they said, when they went hungry.
"What!" ejaculated Pie in surprise. "Him!" "Yore on. An' between yu an' me an' th' Devil, I wouldn't be a heap surprised if Deacon Rankin is with him, neither." Pie whistled: "Are him an' th' Deacon pals?" "Shore," replied Hopalong, buttoning up his vest and rolling a cigarette. "Didn't they allus hang out together! One watched that th' other didn't get plugged from behind.
I hope you have come back well, sir." "Taste away, Cheese," replied Lionel, with a laugh, as he cast his eyes on some remaining fragments. "Partridge pie! do you like it?" "Like it!" returned Master Cheese, the tears coming into his eyes with eagerness, "I wish I could be where I should have nothing else for a whole week."
The fat boy, gradually recovering his former position, replied with a heavy sigh, and, remaining thoughtful for a few moments, drank a long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat, he sighed again, and applied himself assiduously to the pie. 'What a nice young lady Miss Emily is! said Mary, after a long silence. The fat boy had by this time finished the pie.
She found her in the room which they occupied together, lying on the bed, very pale and gasping. She leaned over her. "Amanda, what is the matter; don't you feel well?" she asked. "I feel a little faint." Sophia got a camphor bottle and began rubbing her sister's forehead. "Do you feel better?" she said. Amanda nodded. "I guess it was that green apple pie you ate this noon," said Sophia.
Harlowe's equally prized mince pie, besides fruit and nuts, Jean adding the latter to the feast. Then everyone's health was drunk in grape juice, and it was almost seven o'clock before Jean and his guests rose from the table. "Ten minutes to seven," declared David, consulting his watch. "We must leave here at eight o'clock. We ought to be home by nine.
Names like Jean Terrier, Jacques Sore and François le Clerc, the latter popularly called "Pie de Palo," or "wooden-leg," by the Spaniards, were as detestable in Spanish ears as those of the great English captains.
Aunt Krin, did you know grandma's goin' to have green kern pie when we stop for dinner to-day?" "I knew there was kern pie made," said aunt Krin. "I guess we better get into the carriage." She held her short dress away from the bushes, and scampered with Bobaday into the yard. Here they could not help stopping on the warped floor of the porch to look into the empty house.
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