Johnson. Well, I must give it up, William. What was it?
Bones. Oh, I know, it was what they call—er—er—shadow soup.
Johnson. Oh, then, it must be a new soup. I’ve never heard of shadow soup.
Bones. Never heard of shadow soup?
Johnson. No, I haven’t. I should like to taste that. How is it made?
Bones. I’ll tell you. You go down to the market, buy a nice chicken, take it home, stretch a line across the yard, hang the chicken in the middle of the line, put a nice clean pail of water under the chicken, and when the sun comes out it casts its beautiful rays on the chicken, reflects the shadow in the pail of water, and that’s what they call shadow soup.
Johnson. Oh, you go down to the market, buy a nice chicken, take it home, stretch a line across the yard, hang the chicken in the middle of the line, put a nice clean pail of water under the chicken, and when the sun comes out it casts its beautiful rays on the chicken and reflects the shadow in the water, and that’s what they call shadow soup.
Bones. Yes.
Johnson. But, my dear sir, you’ve forgotten one of the principal things.
Bones. Oh, have I? What’s that?