Mr. Kirkwood, who was in great good humour, said: “You are very kind, and I feel as if I could relish more, but we must draw the line somewhere, so no more, thank you. But pray, Mrs. Barrie, may I ask if your cook would favour me with the receipt?”
“I don’t think there’s any,” said Mrs. Barrie.
“Then may I see your cook?”
“We have only one maid-of-all-work,” was the reply.
“Then she’s a treasure. May I see her?”
“Certainly;” and Bell was called in.
Mr. Kirkwood rather confused Bell by abruptly asking, “How ever did you make this magnificent soup, cook? I never had anything equal to it.”
Bell saw that he was in earnest, and that Mrs. Barrie seemed in great spirits, so she at once said:
“It’s just ordinary pitattie soup, but the day I had a ham bone, an’ the stock was gude; an’ ma way is aye boil the pitatties separate, then pour them, then beat them, or as we ca’d ‘champ’ them, and add them to the stock, and steer and mix them weel, an’ be sure that baith them an’ the plates is hett.”
“Ordinary soup!” said Mr. Kirkwood; “that’s a matter of opinion; my idea is that it is the ne plus ultra.”