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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Does anybody know where Papa Claude is?" Rose demanded, dexterously ladling out steaming Welsh rabbit on to slices of crisp brown toast. "He is here, mes enfants, he is here!" cried a joyous voice from the hall, followed by a presence at once so exuberant and so impressive that Quin stared in amazement. "This is Quinby Graham, grandfather," said Cass, by way of introduction.
"That affair outside," he observed, "will take care of itself, but here's a little orphan child that gets lonesome without company." Annixter began ladling the punch, filling the glasses. Osterman proposed a toast to Quien Sabe and the Biggest Barn. Their elbows crooked in silence. Old Broderson set down his glass, wiping his long beard and remarking: "That that certainly is very very agreeable.
If you start on a vague sort of subject like time you'll be at it for an hour before you've finished." "Very well," said Meldon. "As a matter of fact, what I wanted to say wouldn't have taken five minutes, and I could have said it while you were ladling out the soup.
If this extension of consciousness be an outward process, then it is endless; it is like attempting to cross the ocean after ladling out its water. By beginning to try to realise all, one has to end by realising nothing. But, in reality, it is not so absurd as it sounds. Man has every day to solve this problem of enlarging his region and adjusting his burdens.
"Let's go out on the porch fer a minute an' look at the meller moon." "Meller moon nothin'! Come on, don't be a piker." She was ladling punch into each of their glasses. "Ah-h-h! Ain't that great cough mixture!" Mr. Terriberry rolled his eyes in ecstasy as he once more saw the bottom of his glass. "Doc, 'bout one more and me and you couldn't hit the groun' with our hats." Mr.
Talmage and other industrious exploiters of intellectual tommyrot, now ladling out saving grace for fat salaries, might be as unctuously mouthing for Mumbo Jumbo, fanning the flies off some sacred bull or bowing the knee to Baal. The Potiphar-Joseph episode deserves the profoundest study. It was an awful crisis in the history of the human race!
She pushed a cup of coffee with brown sugar toward him, and began ladling out soft soap on to a piece of paper. "Here," she said. "You give them that: it's the best birch-fat. And you can keep the money yourself." Pelle was not courageous enough for this arrangement. "Very well, then," she said. "I'll keep the money for you. They shan't make fools of us both. And then you can get it yourself.
The Count of Osmont, for instance, was continually fidgeting with anything that might come under his hand, and could not see a snuff-box without ladling out the snuff with three fingers, and sprinkling it over his clothes like a Swiss porter. He sometimes varied this pleasant performance by putting the box itself under his nose, to the great disgust of whomever happened to be its owner.
I cannot content myself with ladling out a weekly dole of predigested mental breakfast food. "Then you, I guess," said Mr. Parker, "are responsible for this Broster Street thing?" "At any rate, I approve of it and put it in the paper. If any husky guy, as Comrade Maloney would put it, is anxious to aim a swift kick at the author of that article, he can aim it at me." "I see," said Mr. Parker.
Dalrymple took the head of the table, and stirred the punch into leaping tongues of blue flame till it looked like a miniature Vesuvius. "What diabolical-looking stuff!" I exclaimed. "You might, to all appearance, be Lucifer's own cupbearer." "A proof that it ought to be devilish good," replied Dalrymple, ladling it out into the glasses.
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