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Updated: May 10, 2025
Anita knew that when it was Jack and Betty the skies were serene, and when it became John and Elizabeth there were clouds upon the horizon. At this point Kettle, who was serving dinner, felt that his duty as Broussard's ally was to speak. "Miss Betty," said he with solemn emphasis, "Mr. Broussard doan' keep them chickens in his cellar fur to fight; he keeps 'em to lay aigs fur his breakfus'."
"Bo'sun, you'll perceive the gentleman is waiting, and, for that matter, so am I. The key, Jerry, the key." "Axing your pardons, gentlemen both," began the Bo'sun, taking himself by the starboard whisker, "but orders is orders, and I was to tell you, Master Horatio, sir, as there was firstly a round o' beef cold, for breakfus!"
"Why, look'ee now, master," says he, scratching his shaven chin, "since you've got your breakfus' surely, if you're minded t' step along t' my cottage down t' lane, I can give ye a jug of good ale to wash it down." Now as he spoke thus, seeing the sturdy manliness of him I dropped my staff and reached out my hand.
The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then he burst forth: "Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat breakfus 'r dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' round about hyere in seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!"
"De nex' mawnin' he overslep' hisse'f, en got inter mo' trouble. Atter breakfus', Mars' Dugal' sont 'im ober ter Mars' Marrabo Utley's fer ter borry a monkey wrench. He oughter be'n back in ha'f an hour, but he come pokin' home 'bout dinner'time wid a screw-driver stidder a monkey wrench. Mars' Dugal' sont ernudder nigger back wid de screw-driver, en Hannibal didn' git no dinner.
'It ole Wiffles there over the 'ead wid your rifle an' tell 'im breakfus' is up." This kindly action having succeeded, the victim looked around. "Breakfus', where? What is it?" "Oh, tin of Brasso; what d'you expect, 'am an' eggs or a filleted sausage."
"Oh, it aren't the disapp'intment, Peter I found one corp', an' that's enough, I suppose, for an aged man like me no, it aren't that it's findin' ye eatin' your breakfus' just as if theer 'ad 'adn't been no storm no, nor yet no devil, wi' 'orns an' a tail, a-runnin' up an' down in the 'Oller 'ere, an' a-roarin' an' a-bellerin', as John Pringle said, last night."
Then their conversation would be pointed with many Golden Points, Bakery Hill, Deep Creeks, Maitland Bars, Specimen Flats, and Chinamen's Gullies. And so they'd yarn till the youngster came to tell them that "Mother sez the breakfus is gettin' cold," and then the old mate would rouse himself and stretch and say, "Well, we mustn't keep the missus waitin', Tom!"
The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then he burst forth: "Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat breakfus 'r dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' around about hyere in seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!"
"Ye be palish this marnin', Peter!" said he, dabbing at me suddenly with his pipe-stem; "shouldn't wonder if you was to tell me as your appetite was bad; come now ye didn't eat much of a breakfus' this marnin', did ye?" "I don't think I did, Ancient." "A course not!" said the old man, with a nod of profound approval " it aren't to be expected.
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