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Updated: June 20, 2025
Last time I was out I hid up a dish of these here salted almuns under a fern and et the whole lot from time to time, kind of absent like. It helped some, but it wasn't dinner." "Same here," put in the Mixer, saturating half a slice of bread in the sauce of the stew. "I can't afford to act otherwise than like I am a lady at one of them dinners, but the minute I'm home I beat it for the icebox.
Mike was stirring into the glass of liquor cayenne pepper which he was shaking from a paper. He was using as a mixer the barrel of a forty-five. The salient jaw of Houck jutted out. "What monkey trick are you tryin' to play on me?" he asked angrily. "You wanted it hot," Mike replied, and the bartender's gaze too was cold and level.
I mean to say, it was almost quite a little bit raw for a native American to adopt this patronizing tone toward one of us. And yet I found that my esteem for the Mixer had increased rather than diminished by reason of her plucky defence of the Klondike woman. I had no reason to suppose that the designing creature was worth a defence, but I could only admire the valour that made it.
We want a man who can preach like the Archbishop of Canterbury, and call on everybody twice a week, and know just when anyone is sick without bein' told a word about it. He's got to be an awful good mixer, to draw the young people like a porous plaster, and fill the pews.
The regular meetings came once a month and Roosevelt attended them faithfully, because he never did things by halves, and having made up his mind to learn the mechanism of politics, he would not neglect any detail. Despite the shyness which ill health caused him in his youth, he was really a good "mixer," and, growing to feel more sure of himself, he met men on equal terms.
"Well, anyway the medicine mixer blew in, threw his saws behind the sofa, put his dip net on the mantlepiece, and took a fall out of my pulse. "Ah!" he said, after he had noted that my tongue looked like a currycomb. "The same to you, Doc," I said. "Ah!" he said, looking hard at the wall. "Say, Doc!" I whispered; "there's no use to cut off my leg because the germs will hide in my elbow."
The latter had not dressed and I was able to detect that Belknap-Jackson, doubtless noting his guest's attire at the last moment, had hastily changed back to a lounge-suit of his own. Also I noted the absence of the Mixer and wondered how the host had contrived to eliminate her. On this point he found an opportunity to enlighten me before taking his seat.
At this I boldly spoke up, declaring that American cookery lacked constructive imagination, making only the barest use of its magnificent opportunities, following certain beaten and all-too-familiar roads with a slavish stupidity. "We nearly had a good restaurant," said the Mixer. "A Frenchman came and showed us a little flash of form, but he only lasted a month because he got homesick.
McFettridge's voice rolled deep and sonorous over the audience "we want a popular preacher a preacher that draws a preacher with some pep." "Hear! hear!" cried Mr. Boggs. "Pep's what we want. That's it pep." "Pep," echoed the chairman. "Exactly so, pep." "More than that," continued Mr. McFettridge, "we want a minister that's a good mixer one that stands in with the boys." "Hear! Hear!" cried Mr.
"Oh, we still have them. They won't work without a major overhaul, though." "Overhaul! They're brand new." "They were. The Mud-pups didn't understand how to sluice them down properly after operations. When this guck gets out into the air it hardens like cement. You ever see a cement mixer that hasn't been cleaned out after use for a few dozen times? That's Numbers Three and Five."
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