“Yes; uncle and I ate them, and they were delicious. Cook these the same way.”
“I know how to cook them, sir, only it’s an insult to proper mushrooms to dress them in the same way as good wholesome food.”
“That’s good wholesome food,” said Vane, “only people don’t know it. I wanted to bring you some big puff balls to fry for me, but you turn so cross about it.”
“And enough to make anyone turn cross, sir. There, that will do now. I’ve said that I’d cook them, and that’s enough.”
Vane Lee felt that there was nothing to be done now but make a retreat, and he went into the hall where Eliza Jane, the doctor’s housemaid, was whisking a feather-brush about, over picture-frames, and ornaments, curiosities from different parts of the world, and polishing the hall table. From this she flew to the stand and caught up the hat brush with which she attacked the different hats on the pegs, speaking over her shoulder at Vane in a rapid way as she went on.
“Now, don’t you ask me to do anything, Master Vane, because I’m all behind, and your aunt’s made the tea and waiting for you, and your uncle will be back directly, for he has only gone down the garden for a walk, and to pick up the fallen peaches.”
“Wasn’t going to ask you to do anything,” was the reply.
“But you’ve been asking cook to do something, and a nice fantigue she’ll be in. She was bad enough before. I wouldn’t have such a temper for all the money in the Bank of England. What have you been asking her to do?—Bother the hat!”
Eliza was brushing so vigorously that she sent Vane’s hard felt hat, which she had just snatched up from where he had placed it, flying to the other end of the hall just as Doctor Lee, a tall, pleasant-looking grey-haired man, came in from the garden with a basket of his gleanings from beneath the south wall.
“That meant for me?” he said, staring down at the hat and then at Vane.