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Stackelberg's uncle had given her as a wedding present, solemnly tolling the hour of eleven. The hour Mr. Kuppenheimer had named was one hour agone. To have kept the appointment, he should have started two hours before. Another half hour had flown before Mr. Middleton, having paused to partake of some chow-chow recently made by Mrs.
It's going to be a hot day. You ought to come out with the chow-chow." "No, no," whispered a boy beside him, "chowri." "Well, chow-chow, chowri; it's all the same," said the big lad impatiently. "Horse-tail to whisk the flies away. Hi! do you hear?" "Are you speaking to me?" said the tall, very English-looking lad addressed. "Of course I am." "Well, you might address me by my name."
Hamel's strong hand. Where are those dear puppies? Chow-Chow," she went on, "come and sit by your mistress at once." Hamel's fingers inside his waistcoat pocket were smoothing out the crumpled piece of paper which she had passed to him. Soon he had it quite flat. Mrs. Fentolin, as though freed from some anxiety, chattered away gaily. "I don't know that I shall apologise to Mr.
I should eat Japanese food profanely dubbed "chow-chow;" sleep in Japanese beds on the floor; talk Japanese as musical as Italian; and live so much like an old-time native that I should feel as one born on the soil.
Señor José Noma is a clever, entertaining person, and one thing about him I am not likely to forget. He ate more chili-peppers, more mustard, more pickled chow-chow, more curry, and more cayenne pepper than I would have believed any mortal could dispose of and live.
They had pressed beef in slices, chow-chow through the neck of the bottle, apricot jam in a little white pot, baker's rolls, and a cracked platter heaped with wild strawberries. Around the second point of Magog Island, down one whole stony hill-side, those strawberries grew too thick for stepping. The hugest, most deadly sweet of cultivated berries could not match them.
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