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You know dey ain't no tukky roaster under dat sody-water. I 'cla' 'fo' Gawd, ef a white man wuz to eat a flapjack, an' it did n' give him de belly-ache, I 'cla' 'fo' Gawd he'd git out a search-wa'nt to see ef some nigger had n' stole dat flapjack goin' down his th'oat." "Mr. Bobbs has to do his work, Mother," put in Peter. "I don't suppose he enjoys it any more than we do."
"Go and buy yourself some chestnuts, Mottka," said the sergeant, "so the officers won't be runnin' you in on suspicion of bein' a criminal." Now Mottka's chestnut roaster in the alley off State Street is full of chestnuts. A bright fire burns under the pan and Mottka sits watching the chestnuts brown and peel as they roast. And if you were to ask him about things he would say: "Tell something?
Mottka had chosen for his little shop an old soapbox which a wastrel providence had deposited in the alley on Twenty-second Street, a few feet west of State Street. Here Mottka sat, nursing the fire of his chestnut roaster with odd bits of refuse which seldom reached the dignity of coal or even wood. He was an old man and the world had used him poorly.
You'll think you have been trained on a peanut roaster. Who's the Britisher over there snooping around with Cowan?" "Name's McGee. But he's not a Limey; he's an American. I'm told he won a coupla medals in the R.F.C., and has sixteen Huns to his credit. He must be good though he doesn't wear the medals to prove it. Not a bit of swank." "What's he doing here?"
"Whut you s'pose us niggers is got to roast in a tukky roaster?" The constable answered shortly that his business was to find the roaster, not what the negroes meant to put in it. "I decla'," satirized old Caroline, savagely, "dish-heah Niggertown is a white man's pocket. Ever' time he misplace somp'n, he feel in his pocket to see ef it ain't thaiuh. Don'-chu turn over dat sody-water, white man!
The Daker is the best car for the money in the world. Not much for looks but everything in the engine. And everyone who has ever owned one knows that its only fault is the way its engine moans. Daker owners hate that moan. When you're going right it sounds a pass between a peanut roaster and a banshee with bronchitis. Every engineer in the Daker plant had worked over it.
"Ten or twelve pounds! Why, woman, what do you mean? Would you expect a rooster to be bigger nor a turkey?" We stared at each other. There was evidently some misconception on my part. "Bring the roaster up; and if I like it, I will buy it, though I must confess that I am not very fond of roast pig." "Do you call this a pig?" said my she-merchant, drawing a fine game-cock from under her cloak.
Its capacity, convenience, and economy as a stove may be estimated by the following fact: With proper management of dampers, one ordinary-sized coal-hod of anthracite coal will, for twenty-four hours, keep the stove running, keep seventeen gallons of water hot at all hours, bake pies and puddings in the warm closet, heat flat-irons under the back cover, boil tea-kettle and one pot under the front cover, bake bread in the oven, and cook a turkey in the tin roaster in front.
She was educated in Venice with great care and all the advantages that wealth could command. She was much in the society of learned men, which she preferred before that of the world of fashion. Titian was her roaster in painting.
Mottka stood up and put the fire out and put the handful of chestnuts in his pocket and picked up his roaster and followed the officer. A half-hour later Mottka stood before the sergeant in the Twenty-second street station. "What's the trouble?" asked the sergeant. And Policeman Billings explained. "He claims to be selling chestnuts and roasting them.
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