Mary ran around the table for no reason at all. She took the cover off the best silver dish. It was a dish of fresh peas cooked with onions and lettuce. Petits pois à la paysanne! I had taught her myself! I simply glared at it. To this day I can smell those onions!
"If I could have had those at seven o'clock," said Aubrey, sadly, "I could have eaten every one of them. They look delicious, Mary, but I really—no, don't urge me! Take the dinner off."
"Oh, boss dear, if you'd just take a lick at them!" implored Mary. "Just one lick—there's a handsome man!"
Aubrey bit his lips. I was trembling on the verge of hysterical laughter.
Mary implored in vain. With our famished eyes on the peas and chicken we saw them disappear through the swinging door. Mary in her agony was talking aloud.
"Keep it up!" whispered the Angel. "This will fetch her! She's ready to cry."
"Oh, but Aubrey," I moaned. "I'm ready to gnaw the napkin and eat my slippers. Please come and tighten my belt!"
"I know now how explorers and castaways feel," murmured the Angel. "For heaven's sake, what comes next?"
"Asparagus!" I wailed. "Fresh asparagus. I paid ninety cents for it!
And she's cooked it with her white sauce—oh!"
The door opened and Mary, with pink cheeks and dancing eyes, brought in and deposited before me my favourite dish. Asparagus on toast. I looked at it longingly, feverishly! I was famishing. My throat was dry and my eyes had a savage glare. I had heard of men going mad for want of food. I know now how they felt.