‘And what else, miss? Would you enjoy a young duckling, miss, with new potatoes and green peas?’
‘Just the thing; and for dessert—’ I couldn’t think what I ought to order next in England, but the high-minded model coughed apologetically, and, correcting my language, said:
‘I was thinking you might like gooseberry-tart and cream for a sweet, miss.’
Oh that I could have vented my New World enthusiasm in a sigh of delight as I heard those intoxicating words, heretofore met only in English novels!
[p9]
‘Ye—es,’ I said hesitatingly, though I was palpitating with joy, ‘I fancy we should like gooseberry-tart’ (here a bright idea entered my mind); ‘and perhaps, in case my aunt doesn’t care for the gooseberry-tart, you might bring a lemon-squash, please.’
Now, I had never met a lemon-squash personally, but I had often heard of it, and wished to show my familiarity with British culinary art.
‘It would ’ardly be a substitute for gooseberry-tart, miss; but shall I bring one lemon-squash, miss?’
‘Oh, as to that, it doesn’t matter,’ I said haughtily; ‘bring a sufficient number for two persons.’
* * * * *
Aunt Celia came home in the highest feather. She had twice been mistaken for an Englishwoman. She said she thought [p10] that lemon-squash was a drink; I thought, of course, it was a pie; but we shall find out at dinner, for, as I said, I ordered a sufficient number for two persons, and the head-waiter is not a personage who will let Transatlantic ignorance remain uninstructed.