“We must go to this,” said Evans, and with some alarm I noticed that of the five other members of our mess, four were preparing to move seating accommodation.
“That’s all very jolly,” I said, “but who’s going to cook the dinner?”
The answer came back with a startling unanimity.
“You.”
“But look here,” I began to protest, “you know what I am at these things. I’ve never cooked a dinner before.”
“Time you began then.”
And I was left standing before an empty stove. There remained only one other member of our mess, my friend Barron, who spent the greater part of his day asleep. I woke him up.
“Barron,” I said, “we’ve got to cook the dinner.”
He blinked up through sleep-laden eyes.
“But, my dear Alec....”