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Updated: May 8, 2025
It was not till Miss Fortune was carefully pouring this over the fried slices in the dish, that Ellen suddenly recollected that breakfast was ready, and she was not. "Aunt Fortune," she said, timidly, "I haven't washed yet there's no basin in my room." Miss Fortune made no answer, nor gave any sign of hearing; she went on dishing up breakfast. Ellen waited a few minutes.
William Winters, who was the smartest woman in the township of Oro, made it her boast that many a time she had sighted a buggyload of her Highland relatives coming down from the MacDonald settlement above Glenoro, when there wasn't a bite to eat in the house, and she had fried the liveliest rooster in the barnyard and slapped up a couple of pies before they drove up to the gate.
They built a fire of dead ironwood upon which they boiled coffee and fried bacon. Bread they had brought with them. After eating, they lay at ease and smoked. There was little danger of the tired cattle straying, but Yeager divided his party so that they should take turn about night-herding. He took the first watch himself. The stillness of the desert night was a thing to wonder at.
"See the way that dirty reptile, Percy Gerrard, who succeeded me upon The Daily Bulletin, has chopped me and my play to mincemeat, cut bits of live flesh out of me and fried them in filth, and washed down my wounds with the vitriol of hypocritical compassion and good advice?
At first they could not eat the issue bacon, and on ration days one might see these strips of unwholesome-looking fat lying about on the ground where they had been thrown on the return trip. Flour, too, was often thrown away before the women had learned to make bread raised with cheap baking-powder and fried in grease.
And it's long odds we understood each other quite as well as the girls did after they'd whispered and gurgled an hour. We had an early dinner or supper and ate fried bacon and stewed prunes and right there I couldn't keep the joke, but had to tell the girls about how Frosty and I had deviled Beryl's father, that time. They could see the point, all right, and they seemed to appreciate it, too.
After retreat you could go down the irregular cobbled street from the old fair-ground where the camp was to a little square where there was a grey stone fountain and a gin-mill where you could sit at an oak table and have beer and eggs and fried potatoes served you by a girl with red cheeks and plump white appetizing arms. "Attention!" Feet and hands moved in unison again.
Ladies who had been at each other's back door a few hours previous borrowing starch or sugar now addressed each other in strained and distant tones while the men were frankly dumb. It was a relief to everybody when a heaping platter of fried chicken appeared upon the table followed by mounds of mashed potatoes and giblet gravy which made the guests' eyes gleam like bird-dogs gaunt from a run.
Mix a thick batter, as before, add some well-washed and dried currants, and fry of a rich brown; serve with a sweet sauce, flavored with wine or shrub, and sweetened with moist sugar; these are often made in the shape of small balls, and fried and served in the same sauce.
Wackernagel began to brag, while he industriously ate of his fried sausage and fried potatoes, "from as fur away as Illinois yet! And from as fur south as down in Maine! Yes, indeed! Ain't, mom?" he demanded of his wife. "Och, yes, many's the strange meals I cooked a'ready in this house. One week I cooked forty strange meals; say not, Abe?" she returned. "Yes, I mind of that week. It was Mrs.
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