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Updated: June 18, 2025
Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman, Be he alive, or be he dead I'll have his bones to grind my bread." "Nonsense, dear," said his wife, "you're dreaming. Or perhaps you smell the scraps of that little boy you liked so much for yesterday's dinner. Here, go you and have a wash and tidy up, and by the time you come back your breakfast'll be ready for you."
"Well, we won't argue I'm too tired. An' I'm sorry you got that eye, Dent." "Oh, that's all right," hastily assured the store-keeper, smiling faintly. "I was just spoiling for a fight, an' now I've had it. Feels sort of good. Yes, first thing in the morning breakfast'll be ready soon as you are. Good-night." But the proprietor couldn't sleep.
"Phoebe, git up, you lazy-bones," called Aunt Rachel, from the bottom of the stairs. "All right, Ma!" "Johnnie, you git up, too!" "Coming down right now, Aunt Rachel!" "Hurry up, or your breakfast'll git cold ... the idea of you children laying in bed like this ... what on earth are you doing up there, talking and talking? I kin hear you buzzing away clear down here!"
"Whatever's quickest to take us from this place," Elizabeth answered. "Breakfast'll be ready, ma'am, whenever you say." "I am ready now. I shall want to start ferrying our things Where's Mr. Clallam? Tell him to come here." "I will, ma'am. I'm sorry " "Tell Mr. Clallam to come here, please." John had slept sound in his haystack, and heard nothing.
His mother calling from the foot of the narrow wooden stairway: "Ty-ler!," rising inflection. "Ty-ler," falling inflection. "Get up, son! Breakfast'll be ready." It was always a terrific struggle between a last delicious stolen five minutes between the covers, and the scent of the coffee and bacon. "Ty-ler! You'll be late!" A mighty stretch. A gathering of his will forces.
The warmth had not got inside of her wrapper yet. "Well, 'tain't cold here; you'd better pull it off right away. I've no notion of people's making themselves tender. You'll be warm enough directly. Breakfast'll warm you."
"But you think we should not?" "Sure of it!" Jerry turned away without a word, leaving the miller staring blankly at the spot where the old place had stood, and hurried back toward the town. "Past seven!" he muttered, "and all those boots and shoes waiting. Breakfast'll have to be late."
Man, but I'd sooner have a sniff o' the backwoods " "Than a mouthful of bacon? Not I," chimed in Alf merrily, at which the man laughed heartily as he turned on his heel. "I'm thinking that there's very little poetry in a hungry stomach," he said. "Well, 'get a gait on. You'll find a wash-hand basin behind the tent, and breakfast'll be ready when you are."
Barton that Abner and Herbert might have got up early to go fishing, though she had never known him to make so early a start before. "I reckon breakfast'll bring 'em round," she said to herself. "I reckon I shall have to split the wood myself." In half an hour breakfast was ready. It was of a very simple character, for the family resources were limited. Mr.
Our baggage will come over pretty soon." "Walk in, young gentlemen, walk in. I'm happy to see you. Almira? Here they are: put breakfast on the table right away." "That isn't a bad beginning," thought Dab. "That sounds a good deal like what Ham said of her. She knew we must be hungry." "Walk into the parlor, please. Breakfast'll be ready in one minute. I'll show you your rooms afterwards."
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