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Updated: May 7, 2025
...Dry air in the throat so cold at first as to make one cough; and dry, sharp, tingling air in the nostrils; frost on beard and eyebrows; cheeks red and crusty, so that to wrinkle them hurts: but all the body within aglow with warmth and health.
And if I hadn't turned kind of cross and crusty, I am afraid I should have gone crazy, and it was certainly better to be cross than crazy. That is twenty-five years ago.
They stood for some days, grumbling and crying. Then my Lady Spring came for the last time through the wood. She had still the Oak Trees and some other crusty old fellows to attend to. "Lie down nicely in the earth and go to sleep," she said to the Anemones, "It is of no use to kick against the pricks. Next year I will come back and waken you once more to life."
Then, of course, if you wanted me, you have something for me to do: stockings to mend, perhaps." I never gave Ginevra a minute's or a farthing's credit for disinterestedness. "Crabbed and crusty as ever!" said she. "I expected as much: it would not be you if you did not snub one.
But crusty Hannah shook her head, and grinned. "The spider know where he is. We never see him more!"
Shoemaker and milliner and furniture man; that makes eleven." He lengthened his list on the margin of a newspaper. "Well, I never paid Van Nostrand for that painting, and I've even forgotten how much he said it would be. And there's a photograph bill a perfectly scandalous one and another dressmaker; Mrs. Edgar; I went back to her after Meg's woman got crusty, but she never'll sue me.
It is frequently observed that a person of brusque address or crusty speech begets crustiness in others. There are subtle currents of feeling in human intercourse, not easy to define, but none the less potent in effect. A person of marked suavity of speech and bearing radiates about him an atmosphere of good humor, which insensibly influences the manners and the speech of others.
What?" "I'm not so sure," I put in slowly. "Now this is where you come in," Ballard went on quickly. "It seems that inside his crusty shell old Benham was an idealist of sorts with queer ideas about the raising of children. His will is a wonder. He wants him brought to manhood as nearly as can be made, a perfect specimen of the human male animal without one thought of sex.
Out upon ye, Matt McCarthy, for a crusty old sour-dough, with vitals frozen an' summer gone from yer heart! 'Tis an ossification ye've become! But bide a wee, Matt, bide a wee," he supplemented. "Wait till ye've felt the fale iv his flesh." The opportunity came shortly, when St. Vincent, with Frona opposite, swept in the full thirteen tricks. "A rampse!" Matt cried. "Vincent, me lad, a rampse!
He found himself in a long and rather narrow room, with a high ceiling, duskily lighted by three wide windows that were thickly webbed and dusted, like ancestral bottles of fine crusty Port. A veritable den it was, filled with what seemed to be the wrecks of philosophical apparatus dating back two or three generations ill-fated ventures on the treacherous main of science.
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