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Updated: June 28, 2025
Little Emmy of the old days had loved to sit upon these steps, a trifle raised above the kitchen traffic, yet cognizant of all that was going on, and ready to descend promptly if she smelled fresh crullers frying, or baked sweet apples steaming hot from the oven.
It was Sol Klinger, whose manner of eating crullers and coffee received and merited the unfavorable attention of everybody seated at his table. "Sit down and have a cup of coffee." "I had it my lunch already," Abe replied. "Sit down and have a cup of coffee, anyhow," Sol Klinger coaxed. "I wouldn't have no coffee," Abe said as he took the vacant chair next to Sol. "I'll have a cup of chocolate.
Then I took off my wet clothes and got into bed to get warm and snug, and there I ate my rolls and crullers, and they were bully. Yes, I remember that although my room rent was overdue, and I didn't know where my breakfast was coming from, I was supremely happy; I sort of felt I was doing the best I could."
"That's right; do. So long." The boy, Captain Elisha's acquaintance of the morning, was out, regaling himself with crullers and milk at a pushcart on Broad Street, when the captain returned to the officers of Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves. The clerk who had taken his place was very respectful. "Captain Warren," he said, "Mr. Sylvester was sorry to miss you.
If you find it too soft, knead in a little more flour, and roll it out over again. Cut it into long slips with a jagging iron, or with a sharp knife, and twist them into various fantastic shapes. Have ready on hot coals, a skillet of boiling lard; put in the crullers and fry them of a light brown, turning them occasionally by means of a knife and fork.
I got thinkin' of Pa's one day; an' I went to a pasty shop an' I says, 'Have you got crullers? The gal behind the counter says, 'Yes: how many? I, recallin' Pa's, an' feelin' weak in the pit of my stomach frum hunger, I answered back, 'Three dozen! The gal leaped back a step; then she hauled out a bag 'bout the size of a bushel an' begins shovellin' in round, humpy things, most all hole in the centre but considerable sizable as t' girth.
Sometimes it seems like Mark was walkin' o' a dark night on cold, wet sand. He slaps down his foot, sort o' careless, an' strikes phosphorus. He ain't got, what ye might call, seein' qualities, but he strikes out light! That's the way it was with him tellin' Pa 'bout sellin' crullers. The old man made a small fortin. An' now this inn will pan out, you jest mark my words.
I walked in past a counter where the Chink had crullers and gingerbread and a lot of low-grade stuff like that, and I set down to a little table with this here marble oil-cloth on it. "'Bring her back, I says, kind of tremblin', and pointin' to the window. "The Chink pattered up and come back with a little slab of it on a tin plate. I jest let it set there.
Countin' holes an' puffy air, they pay better than Pa's solid little cakes." Janet was laughing merrily. "Why, Mark!" she said presently, "you've got an idea. Tell your father to make his crullers for the city trade. He'll make his fortune. Put a sign on your gate and teach the boarders what crullers really are!" Mark was not heeding.
"What a silly idea!" said her father. But Lily kept tight hold of her idea and her money, and the last of January, with Chris' help, she brought it about. They took the bedstead out of the back parlor and changed the furniture around. And though her mother called it foolishness, she baked some tiny biscuits and made a batch of crullers and boiled a ham.
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