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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Hello, Daddy!" called Alice, putting up her face to be kissed, as she came in from the kitchen with a plate of delicately browned toast. "You're just in time. And it's such a lovely rarebit!" "That's good, my dear." "Oh, Father, how hoarse you are!" cried Ruth. "Is your throat bad again?" "Well, this harbor dampness isn't just the best medicine for it.
She looked at them appealingly, knowing that she had not said enough. "You could hear everything they said," she added. "It was " she dwindled to silence. Dwight Herbert savoured his rarebit with a great show of long wrinkled dimples. "Excellent sauces they make here excellent," he said, with the frown of an epicure.
The Englishman does love to conceive himself as a sort of country gentleman; and his castles in the air are all castles in Scotland rather than in Spain. For, as an ideal, a Scotch castle is as English as a Welsh rarebit or an Irish stew. And if he talks less about money I fear it is sometimes because in one sense he thinks more of it.
Both graduates were looking into the fire. Freshman Haviland snored softly in the window seat. The eyes of the rest of the chapter were fastened on the chafing-dish. Shirlock's story had seemed pretty long and the rarebit sent out a tantalizing odor.
No I didn't think." Mr. Fotheringay waved his hand. "What shall we have?" he said, in a large, inclusive spirit, and, at Mr. Maydig's order, revised the supper very thoroughly. "As for me," he said, eyeing Mr. Maydig's selection, "I am always particularly fond of a tankard of stout and a nice Welsh rarebit, and I'll order that.
Mix 1-1/2 cups of strong coffee with 1/2 cup of rich milk in a double boiler; add 1/2 cup of sugar, 1 tablespoonful of gelatin and a pinch of salt. Then stir in the yolks of 3 eggs beaten with 1/2 cup of sugar until it thickens. Remove from the fire; add the whites beaten to a froth and a teaspoonful of vanilla. Pack in a mold and freeze until hard and serve with whipped cream. Scotch Rarebit.
When, after having enjoyed a delicious, if not particularly digestible supper of coffee and Welsh rarebit in Madeline's room, Betty crept softly to her own, and turned up the gas just far enough to undress by, Helen woke and sat straight up in bed. "Why, Betty!" she said, "I'm awfully glad you've come. We all worried so about you. But why, Betty, your hair isn't waved a bit.
Halliday burst into the room at this moment, singing a fragment of the "Chough and Crow" chorus, very much out of tune. He was in boisterously high spirits, and very little the worse for liquor. He had only walked from Covent Garden, he said, and had taken nothing but a tankard of stout and a Welsh rarebit.
"I have just come in from a benefit concert," she said, "and I am as hungry as a bear. Now I cannot endure eating alone at night. I knew it was near your hour to return, so I waited for you. Will you go down to the dining-room with me and have a Welsh rarebit? I am going to make one in my chafing dish."
Come on around to Burke's and have some ale and a rarebit." "No thanks. I'm in training, you know." "That's so. Been out on the field?" "Yes. I wonder you don't go in for that." "Too much like work. I might try for the crew or the nine. I'm afraid of spoiling my manly beauty by getting somebody's boot heel in the eye. By the way, you don't look particularly handsome.
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