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They sleep in hammocks. These they make of string. They make the string by twisting the leaves of a tree. They have plenty of pans and pots, both large and small. These pans and pots they make of clay. First, they soften the clay and knead it. Then they shape it into pots and pans. It is then dried in the sun. When the pots and pans are dry they are put in a hot fire.
The hospitable front door was closed, and the shining array of milk pans on the back porch was the only evidence that some one had been at work that morning. No Grandma Watterby came smiling down to the gate, no busy Mrs. Will Watterby came to the window with her sleeves rolled high. "Well, for pity's sake!" gasped Betty, completely astounded. "I never knew them to go off anywhere all at once.
Tin pudding pans are the best things to bake it in, and take care it be not over-done; they will rise very high in the oven, and when they begin to sink again, they are baked enough. A cheap seed cake. Take half a peck of flour, set a pint of milk on the fire, and break in a pound and a half of butter; when all the butter is melted, stir in half a pint of ale yeast that is not bitter.
Someone in a nearby kitchen rattled her pans and then cursed a dog away from her back-door. Not that any of the sounds were loud. The sounds of living are rarely loud, but they run in an endless river a monotone broken by ugly ripples of noise to testify that men still sleep or waken, hunger or feed.
He had a round ruddy face, and when he smiled, which he did all the time, his teeth gleamed square and white from the curly blackness of his beard. He got out his pans and buffalo meat, and was dropping pieces of hardtack into the spitting tallow when Susan addressed him in his own tongue, the patois of the province of Quebec.
You would have seen them with loads of bedclothes, carpets, men and women's wearing clothes, pots, pans, gridirons, shoes and other furniture whereof they had pillaged the country." Wodrow, ii. 413. Claverhouse was not left long in idleness.
"You introduced me to her so that you might make eyes at that abominable valet of the secretary!" Pierre turned savagely to his protege. "Go! And eef you look at her, idiot, I haf revenge myself. Oh, I am calm! Bah! Go to zee stables, cattle!" And he rattled his pans at a great rate. Warburton was glad enough to escape. "I have brought discord into the land, it would seem."
In the morning put the kettle over the fire and let the grape juice boil gently for a half hour, skimming it frequently. While the juice is cooking put the sugar in pans in a moderate oven and let heat. As soon as the juice is skimmed clear stir in the hot sugar, and as soon as it is dissolved pour the jelly in the glasses, first standing them in warm water.
Behind the oil-tank, where the patent condensation of oil into gas went on, tiers of shelves, enamelled pots and pans ranged below, dishes and glasses above. On the very top, like a frieze, gaily labelled ranks of "tinned goods." On the table under the window a pair of gold scales. A fire burned in the stove.
Quick she must be lest Clément and Fernand and Alphonse come home before the night fell over their sleeping place. In the evenings grand'mère's chair was pulled to the great hearth fire. Claire René would watch the flamelight spread over the stonelike face. Sometimes bright sparkles from the rows of copper pots and pans would lay spots of light on the heavy closed lids.
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