THE COMMISSARIAT.
“Cockie-leekie!” said he; “splendid! Sheep’s head broth!—glorious! I had forgotten it. Haggis and pancakes!—magnificent! Collops, and what more did you say?” Then turning to Colonel Gordon, “You laughed at me for praising the potato-soup, and here you are getting a whole catalogue of dishes. I can only say that you’re vastly better lately if you are the length of dining on such fare.”
“It was for you, Mr. Kirkwood, that I was catering, not for myself,” replied the Colonel; “and we must see Mrs. Barrie about the matter first.”
Mr. Kirkwood found occasion, on their way to the house, twice or thrice to turn round and speak to Bell (who followed at a respectful distance) about some old-fashioned dishes, until Colonel Gordon said:
“Really, Kirkwood, don’t bother my good friend with such questions. You speak as if your fortune depended on them. Don’t make so much of your lower nature.”
“It’s not that so much as old associations,” said Mr. Kirkwood; “but if you had come into a house on a cold day and got the potato-soup that I”—
“Stop, Kirkwood, please! Do stop,—I’ve heard it fifty times,” replied the Colonel.
When the gentlemen got into the dining-room, they felt at a loss how to invite themselves; but Gordie, on whose shoulder Colonel Gordon steadied himself when entering the house, did it for them by saying:
“Mamma, Mr. Kirkwood’s coming here to dinner some day, and Bell is going to make pancakes and nice, nice things for us all.”
“We’ll be delighted to see you, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Barrie, with a very slight bow to each, “any day that will be most convenient.” Tuesday week was fixed.