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Updated: June 28, 2025
The only ray in the darkness which brooded on his indomitable soul was the thought that it might still be possible, by getting hold of Mr Pilkington before the notices appeared and shaking his head sadly and talking about the misleading hopes which young authors so often draw from an enthusiastic first-night reception and impressing upon him that first-night receptions do not deceive your expert who has been fifteen years in the show-business and mentioning gloomily that he had heard a coupla the critics roastin' the show to beat the band . . . by doing all these things, it might still be possible to depress Mr Pilkington's young enthusiasm and induce him to sell his share at a sacrifice price to a great-hearted friend who didn't think the thing would run a week but was willing to buy as a sporting speculation, because he thought Mr Pilkington a good kid and after all these shows that flop in New York sometimes have a chance on the road.
"Don't say so, master, if you please; dat ox, if you could a smelled him roastin, and de whiskey-punch," and Bacchus snapped his finger, as the only way of concluding the sentence to his own satisfaction. "Take him off, Mark," said Mr. Weston, "the drunken old rascal." "Master," said Bacchus, pushing Mark off, "I don't like de way you speak to me; t'aint 'spectful." "Carry him off," said Mr.
Remember how long I've been in their power, an' yet have come to no real harm, so far as life is concerned, although this bein' trussed up like a chicken ready for the roastin' is by no means pleasant or comfortable."
The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing about excitedly. "Hey, boys!" he shouted. "Get an axe and chop open the back! The long gent is roastin' to death in there!" "And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized Shoop. "Hello, Jack!" And he beckoned to Corliss. "He ain't in there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"
When the weather's right, an' the village is in a good place an' thar's plenty to eat you never see any happier fellers. The day's work an' huntin' over, they skylark 'roun' like boys havin' fun with all sorts o' little things. You wouldn't think they wuz the same men who could enjoy roastin' an enemy alive. Then, they ain't troubled a bit 'bout the future, either.
My! you know what dat means if it found out?" "Well, Miss Sommers herself was good enough to tell me that it would probably mean flogging to death." "Floggin' to deaf!" echoed Peter. "P'r'aps so wid massa, for he's a kind man; but wid most any oder man it 'ud mean roastin' alibe ober a slow fire! Geo'ge, you's little better'n a dead man!"
"It's my nerves, I tell you; they're shot to pieces the strain I've been under everything goin' wrong pilin' on me like a thousand of brick." "Is it goin' to be any better?" "Some of my friends will stick," Dr. Harpe repeated stubbornly. "Sure, they will. A woman like you will always have a followin' among the igner'nt and weak-minded." "What you roastin' me for like this?"
"Bein' taken by surprise," she said, with an apologetic cackle, "it ain't to be suppose as miraculs can be performed with regard to cookin', the fire havin' gone out, not bein' kept alight on account of the 'eat of the day, which was that 'ot as never was, tho', to be sure, bein' a child in the early days, I remember it were that 'ot as my sister's aunt was in the 'abit of roastin' her jints in the sun."
But there's things about cookin' that anybody can attind to, such as havin' kettles and pans clean, and kapin' the fire up when it's needed, and not roastin' a body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes, and there's other things," she continued with increasing earnestness.
"Roscoe Detwiller, if you're goin' to praise that woman in the presence of your own lawful wife, I'll never speak to you the longest day I live." "Who's praisin' her? I was just sayin' " "Why, Roscoe Detwiller, you did, too! And I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself." "Say, what ails you? Why, I was roastin' her to beat the band."
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