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Updated: June 22, 2025
I shall never, as long as I live, forget the shortcake and corn bread, the puddings and pumpkin pies, and above all the buttermilk. As we gradually crept out on the Plains and saw the sickness due to improper food, or in some cases to its improper preparation, it was borne in upon me how blessed I was, with such a trail partner as Buck and such a life partner as my wife.
Temperance had turned the plates upside-down around the table, and placed in a straight line through the middle a row of edibles. She was going to have waffles, she said, and shortcake; they were all ready to bake, and she wished to the Lord they would come and have it over with.
He ate well, too, almost the first he had eaten in several days, so he informed his companions. It was a pleasant company which gathered under the shade of the old apple tree. Empty had received his second piece of strawberry shortcake, and was satisfied. When dinner was over, he once more stretched himself out upon the ground and resumed the sleep which his mother had disturbed.
"I've got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on it," he said, reflectively. "Suppose you eat that." "All right," said Dorothy; "I don't mind. Anything to be accommodating." So Mr. Over led her into the house, where she ate the piano, which was of an excellent flavor. "Is there anything to drink here?" she asked.
"Harriet," I said, "you and Ann Spencer are benefactors of the human race." "Go 'way now," said Ann Spencer, shaking all over with pleasure, "and eat your shortcake." And after dinner how pleasant it was to stretch at full length for a few minutes on the grass in the shade of the maple tree and look up through the dusky thick shadows of the leaves.
Shortcake, a little squat personage, strained and stood on tiptoe to have her share of the investigation. "Ay, it's frae him, sure eneugh," said the butcher's lady; "I can read Richard Taffril on the corner, and it's written, like John Thomson's wallet, frae end to end." "Haud it lower down, madam," exclaimed Mrs.
Encounters with a variety of celebrities since then have proved no whit more thrilling than the discovery that our host, Jerry South of Mountain Home, was lieutenant-governor of Arkansas; and though I have roamed in five nations, no food that I ever have tasted so nearly approaches that of the gods as the strawberry shortcake we ate in Bergman.
"Pork and pone" were the staples, the latter being a rather coarse cake with little or no seasoning, baked from cornmeal. This was varied by a compound called "shortcake," a mixture of flour and lard, rapidly baked in a pan, and eaten hot. Though not distasteful, I thought it as villainous a compound as a civilized man would put into his stomach.
The ghost was really Freddie, and he was walking in his sleep, with his eyes tightly closed. "Well, I declare!" murmured Bert. "Why didn't we think of this before?" "Please let me have another piece of strawberry shortcake, mamma," pleaded the sleep-walker. "Just a tiny little piece."
Rosie Gimpke came back last night and she promised me shortcake and sauerkraut and pretzels and schooners of Grass River water. Do come." Indeed, Thaine had been most uncomfortable since the day at Wykerton, and he wanted to be especially good to Jo now. He didn't know exactly why, nor had he felt any jealousy at the bright looks and the leisure preference she had just given to Todd Stewart.
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