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Updated: May 19, 2025
Halstead asked at last, with a glance at Theodora; then, as she did not seem inclined to hazard conjectures on that subject, he addressed himself to Addison, who was trying to extract a second cup of coffee from the big coffeepot. "You know everything, Addison, or think you do. What is this unpardonable sin?"
No one was interested in coffee and the group filed out. Ten minutes later, the white-coated waiter came to pick up the things. He crossed to the coffeepot, lifted it, and took a tiny device out of the hidden space formed by the pot's legs and its bottom. This, he slipped into his pocket before picking up the tray and going out as he'd come.
So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over the coffeepot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates.
One erf us better take a look through that young stock in the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg. Which you ruther do?" Brit tilted his chair backward so that he could reach the coffeepot on the stove hearth. "I'll haul down the posts," he decided carelessly. "They're easy loaded, and I guess my back's as good as yourn."
The coffeepot on this particular day chose to boil. They rattled merrily out of Frederick and off into the higher hills beyond. It was a little after noon when they reached the farm. They had had to turn off the pike and take a winding wood road, rough and muddy from the spring rains.
The young pilot was no exception to the common rule, and in a state of rapture known only to the amateur cook of tender years, he put on the teakettle, pared and sliced the potatoes, and put a quantity of the brown mud from the canister into the coffeepot.
Returning from their fruitless wanderings, they found the old lady seated in a rocking-chair on the sidewalk, a parasol over her head to keep the cinders off, the coffeepot on the curb and the brick oven hot and ready. It was Mrs. Kirkham who found Aunt Ellen safe with friends near the Presidio. Lorry would not go to her, unable to bear her questions. So, Mrs.
In the trembling circles of shadow cast by the leaves, at a table, covered with a white cloth, and set with coffeepot, bread-and-butter, cheese, and cold game, sat the princess in a high cap with lilac ribbons, distributing cups and bread-and-butter. At the other end sat the prince, eating heartily, and talking loudly and merrily.
His fine, brown hair fell in heavy locks down over his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five minutes so, and he lifted his head and glanced around him apathetically. "Gee-man-ee, I've got a headache!" he muttered, dropping his forehead into his spread palms again. Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed the dented coffeepot forward on the stove.
Within the hearth he had kindled a small and cheerful blaze. "I'll agree to keep it up as long as you eat them." Swiftly Barry turned the browning ham from the iron spider into a small platter and deposited it upon the table with a flourish. Then he placed the granite coffeepot at her right hand. "I made it with an egg," he said proudly. "Will you pour, Signorina, while I cut this?
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