... is completely surrounded, when suddenly the lion that is, the Head Waiter stalks magnificently down on his prey from the kitchen. The jackals disperse to their various tables. Head Waiter (condescendingly). You are going to lunch here, Sir? Jack. That ...

... LUCY A SKETCH. BY II. T. FARRANT. A wide, low-raftered kitchen, lit only by the dancing light from the big logs burning on the hearth. In the far corner, behind the high-backed settle, a tall clock ticked solemnly in the deep-brown shadow. Else where ...

... he had stood alone in the field. There had been some half-hearted talk of an opposition candidate some whisperings in farm-kitchens and bothies, in village smiddies and market-places, that the Provost o' Avonbeg was screwing his courage up, and would yet ...

... So hard blew the wind that the coachman had to ram his hat down, and hold it, too, to prevent it being carried into the kitchen garden. All right, driver, said the parlour-maid, running in. Driving up to first nights had never lost its terrors for Bertha ...

... you '11 come downstairs, said Bertram Lane. Downstairs be hanged said Garthorne. I don't want to see the kitchen-maid. My mother was a kitchen-maid once but I always tell people that she was an Austrian baroness. They swallow everything I like to tell ...

... he will not be worried by or interested in hers. There is no mixing. She must not talk Money Maiket, and he will not talk Kitchen, and few couples meet half-way. Then since spinning-wheels and store-closets went out, women have not had enough to do, so ...

... and knocked on the door of Mrs. Hodgson's little room on the ground floor. There was no answer. Harriet came up from the kitchen to say that Missus was making the other gentleman's omelet. She opened the door and offered him a chair. He waited in vex ...

... treasure. It was midnight when we lowered it into the vault. He embraced me and called me his dear son. Ry the light of two kitchen candles we drank a bottle of the oldest White Hermitage to its health, Jonas tugging his forelock at due intervals, and taking ...

... A NOVEL, IN A NUTSHELL. THE APOTHEOSIS OF DERBY lvEENO. BY MAXWELL LAURIE. Husband and wife sat by the fireside in the kitchen of their little New England homestead. The lad would a-made a right smart business man, lubal observed regretfully. It is the ...

... and he tried to behave in as natural a way as possible and not to show that he felt lonely. Indeed, when he went into the kitchen where the family were and saw all the children's new Christmas things, he tried to be pleased, and so he was in a way but ...

... pale, weak, and tottering, he took what comfort he could find in the savoury odours which came steaming up from the basement kitchens of the restaurants in Market Street, caring more to gain them than to avoid the rain. His teeth chattered he shambled, stooped ...

... uneasily in their stalls. Looking over her shoulder, the girl caught a glimpse of a sturdy, thick-set figure crossing from the kitchen to the cow-house; it was Jose Crabtree, one of the farm-men. A fine evening, Jose, she called, in her rich, North-Country ...