"I'm not particular which, Mrs. Jones."
"Do you take both?" she persisted, with everybody at the table looking my way.
"No, ma'am, only coffee," said I, my face the color of the beet-pickles.
She finally passed me a cup, and, in my embarrassment, I immediately took a swallow and burnt my mouth.
"Have you lost any friends lately?" asked that wretched Fred, seeing the tears in my eyes.
I enjoyed that tea-party as geese enjoy pate de fois gras. It was a prolonged torment under the guise of pleasure. I refused everything I wanted, and took everything I didn't want. I got a back of the cold chicken; there was nothing of it but bone. I thought I must appear to be eating it, and it slipped out from under my fork and flew into the dish of preserved cherries.
We had strawberries. I am very partial to strawberries and cream. I got a saucer of the berries, and was looking about for the cream when Miss Smith's mother, at my right hand, said:
"Mr. Flutter, will you have some whip with your strawberries?"
Whip with my berries! I thought she was making fun of me, and stammered:
"No, I thank you," and so I lost the delicious frothed cream that I coveted.