In our quiet and clean lanes that was the kind of life which was most in respect. One of our neighbours, General D——, kept his house up in very grand style; and yet the most comical scenes took place every morning between him and his cook. Breakfast over, the old general, smoking his pipe, would himself order the dinner.
‘Well, my boy,’ he would say to the cook, who appeared in snow-white attire, ‘to-day we shall not be many: only a couple of guests. You will make us a soup, you know, with some spring delicacies—green peas, French beans, and so on. You have not given us any yet, and madam, you know, likes a good French spring soup.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then, anything you like as an entrée.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Of course, asparagus is not yet in season, but I saw yesterday such nice bundles of it in the shops.’
‘Yes, sir; eight shillings the bundle.’
‘Quite right! Then, we are sick of your roasted chickens and turkeys; you ought to get something for a change.’
‘Some venison, sir?’
‘Yes, yes, anything for a change.’