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Updated: June 4, 2025
"And we'll pop corn," said Mr. Bartlett when they were all gathered together watching the roaring flames, the only light in the room. And Nancy, who could on a moment's notice, produce anything asked of her, brought the popper and a big bag of dried corn. After a time, when several bowls of corn were popped and buttered, salted and eaten, Nancy put on the hearth a dish of fine, rosy apples.
Slippery, dumfounded at the almost monstrous proposition his comrade made, who was ready and willing to spoil the youngsters' futures by transforming them into common beggars, failed to find an immediate answer, and now Kansas Shorty, abusively speaking, continued: "You, Slippery, have been my rambling-male for almost a month, but now I propose that we part comradeship and you travel on to Chicago and let me take charge of these sleeping lads, as I do not wish other plingers to know that I have been guilty enough to permit two likely looking lads to slip through my hands by permitting them to accept employment, and" he added as a sort of final argument, "when I take charge of these kids, I shall know how to keep my bread well buttered."
Put it into a saucepan with a lump of butter and a few drops of lemon juice. Let it boil for a few moments, then turn it into a dish and allow it to cool. When cold mix with it the beaten-up yolks of two eggs. Put them into a buttered mold, leaving an empty space in the middle. Bake in a slow oven for about an hour.
It is best to prepare them the day before you make the pudding. Stir to a cream half a pound of fresh butter and half a pound of powdered white sugar; and by degrees pour into it a glass of mixed wine and brandy. When the whole is well mixed, put it into a buttered dish and lay puff paste round the edge. Bake it about half an hour, and when cold grate sugar over it.
His black cap shone like a buttered roll, his linen shirt was neither an Egyptian nor a Swiss fabric, and his chest, overgrown with long black hair, always showed bare through the slit of his unbuttoned shirt.
"I have a way of finding out these things," replied the artful conspirator, mysteriously. "I have one or two friends at court." "Is Paul Kendall one of them?" "No; he is a simpleton. He don't know which side his bread is buttered. If Lowington takes snuff, Kendall sneezes." "I have seen you talking with him two or three times to-day." "I was only pumping him."
With the opening of the door, the children fell rapturously into her arms, and while she took off her hat and coat, Miss Polly laid the table for supper in front of the ruddy glow of the fire. On the fender a plate of buttered toast was keeping warm, a delicious aroma of coffee scented the air, and a handful of red carnations made a cheerful bit of colour in the centre of the white tablecloth.
Sending to his residence for a tin dish, some chopped onions and butter, he puts them in his oven, and in a few minutes sets them before me, browned and buttered. Meanwhile, he has despatched a youth somewhere on another errand, who now returns and supplements the savory chops with a small dish of honey in the comb and some green figs.
With his own judgment to guide him, he brewed some very creditable tea, sugared and creamed it lavishly, browned a slice of bread on top of the stove blowing off the dust beforehand after Arline's recipe for making toast, buttered it until it dripped oil, and carried it in to her with the air of a man who will have peace even though he must fight for it.
He felt that it would be improper to ride his horse home without giving time to the animal to drink his gruel, and therefore made his way into the little breakfast-parlor, where Molly had a cup of tea and buttered toast ready for him.
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