For Fred Winston, true gentleman and loyal knight that he was, was making the most heroic efforts to swallow a little more of my handiwork.
And this from Edward, usually the most chivalrous of brothers!
I glanced around the room, and saw a similar state of affairs on every side. All those who had been unfortunate enough to taste the "food for the gods" wore a more or less distressed expression. I plunged my own spoon into my plate, and carried it to my mouth.
Pah! Any thing more nauseous I had seldom tasted. The gods were indeed to be pitied!
I covered my face with my hands as a laugh pealed around the room; and Norman came dashing into it, and up to me.
"Amy," he said, in a loud whisper which could be heard by all, "mother says don't let any one touch that stuff of yours. It's awful!"
"Awful" indeed! But it was too late; enough tasting had been done to cover me, as I felt, with everlasting disgrace.
"Amy was so awfully cock-a-hoop about her new dish, too," began Norman; "and now——"
But his brotherly remarks were cut short by my left-hand neighbor, with an intimation, that, if he had any regard for his physical or mental well-being, he would at least postpone them.
Overcome with mortification and chagrin, I would fain have left the room, not only to hide my diminished head, but also to consult cousin Serena on the possible cause of this mishap, when Jim came up to me, and said, in an aside even louder than Norman's,—