“Oysters to begin with, of course,” said Thaddeus.
“I suppose so,” said Bessie, “though, you remember, the last time we had oysters you had to open them, because the man from the market didn’t get here until half-past seven.”
“And Ellen had never opened any except with a tack-hammer,” said Thaddeus. “Yes, I remember. But lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Put down the oysters. Then we’ll have some kind of a purée—celery purée, eh?”
“That will be very good if Ellen can be induced to keep it thick.”
“Perhaps we’d better tell her we want a celery consommé,” suggested Thaddeus. “Then it will be sure to be as thick as a dictionary.”
“I guess it will be all right,” said Bessie. “What kind of fish?”
“Bradley likes salmon; Robinson likes sole; Phillips likes whitebait, and so do I.”
“We’ll have whitebait,” said Bessie, simply. “Then a saddle of mutton?”
“Yes, and an entrée of some kind, and next individual ruddy ducks.”
“No Roman punch?”