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When a publisher's salesman takes you out to dinner, it is not surprising if the conversation turns toward literature about the time the last of the peas are being harried about the plate. "Well, gentlemen," said Roger as his guests assembled in his little cabinet, "it's a cold evening. Pull up toward the fire. Make free with the cider. The cake's on the table.
"No, I will!" shouted Joel, going after him at double pace; and presently both came up with shining faces, and reported it nicely done. "And now," said Polly, after they had all sat around the stove another half-hour, watching and sniffing expectantly, "the cake's done! dear me! it's turning black!" And quickly as possible Polly twitched it out with energy, and set it on the table.
Ought to be must be that's what it spells to Captain Lemuel Hunt. For if if as I reasonably suspicion that there Jim Barlow, poor writer, has fell into the hands of a passel of Injuns, his cake's dough, lessen I can rake it out their oven into mine." The departure of the buckboard, with solemn Silent Pete in charge, had a depressing effect upon the group left watching it.
Sandy Morley, I don' gave you millions mysef! Yo' pa was allas fur lettin' yo' off, but I lathered yo' mo'n once, chile, an' so saved yo' fo' yo' luck." "I mean 'leavings' in the bowl when the cake's ready for the oven. Come Sally, let me help you get things together. Molasses, spices, milk " "I'll get the res'. Now, son, do tackle this yere can o' risin' powder.
Now what money Cake earned at Maverick's her mother snatched from her hand before she was well within the door. If she held out even a dime, she got a beating. And Cake's mother, in the later years of her life, besides being a clever evader of the police and the truant officer, developed into a beater of parts. Broken food the child offered in abundance and piteous hope.
Even indignation with her figure could not conquer her appetite, and she divided the cake between them, eating her share before she spoke. "Seed cake's the nicest thing in the world," she said at last. "I love the wee blacks in it, don't you, Wullie? Wullie, when I'm dying I'll come here and Bessie shall make seed cake. Then I shall never die.
First I must see ..." and she plunged a knife into the cake's heart: it came out untarnished. "Yes, it's done to a turn." There and then it was cut; for, said Mahony, that was the only way in which he could make sure of a piece. Afterwards chunks were dealt out to every one Polly knew to Long Jim, Hempel, Tommy Ocock, the little Hemmerdes.
I never calk'lated on having a British gal for a wife; but you're handsome enough and spunky enough for a president's lady, and I don't care a darn what the folks round our section say about it. I'll tell you, Sybilla; but you mustn't split to a living soul, or my cake's dough. They say a woman can't keep a secret; but you must try, if you should burst for it.
Pete plucked the tongs out of Nancy's hands, and began feeding the fire with the gorse. "Aw, Grannie, have I ever been away?" he cried, laughing, and his wet eyes gleaming. "Nancy Joe, have you no nose at all?" cried Grannie. "The cake's burning to a cinder." "Let it burn, mother," shouted Pete. "It's the way she was doing herself when she was young and forgetting.
Really? Choc'late cake's awful good for you. I love chocolate cake. This here cake was made by Esther Coombe's Aunt Amy it's a sure winner! Say, Mister, what do you like anyway?" "Ever so many more things than I did yesterday. By Jove, that chicken looks good!" "Yep. That's Mrs. Hallard's chicken. I thought you'd want the best. She ris' it herself. And made the stuffin' too."
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