"A nice loin of pork with sage and onion stuffing would be a change, mum."
"I don't eat sage and onion," growled Peter.
"A nice loin of pork with sage and onion stuffing would be a change," repeated Amelia steadily. "And I've got oysters and a partridge for you, mum."
"I don't want both. General Macintosh could have the partridge," I said pacifically.
"There'll be soup, pork, Charlotte Ruce, and savoury eggs for the dining-room." When Amelia adopted that tone it was unwise to argue.
"Do you know how to make Charlotte Russe?"
Amelia creaked, and a bone snapped, the result of an extraordinary veracity.
"I have an idea how it's made, but Miss Fairbrother does the sweets now. She's gettin' her hand in before she's married. She's goin' to spoil the Doctor. Most ladies spoils their husbands." She fixed a baleful eye upon Dimbie and Peter.
Peter seized the poker and thumped the fire into a blaze. I was glad, for the room was chilly.
"Is that all, Amelia?"