“Then what does one do?”
“Ah, that is what cook says that she prefers you should decide,” I concluded happily. “You won’t find the time heavy on your hands for very long, especially if anything turns up that you want to do.”
“Thank you very much indeed,” she said gratefully; “it is so good of you to tell me these things.”
“Is there anything else that troubles you?” asked Polly, holding out a piece of cake.
“No, I don’t think so—” the bride hesitated, and then, after a moment’s pause, threw this at us: “I suppose there isn’t really very much that one can have for breakfast, is there?”
“Just the bacon,” I remarked; “that is always as nice as anything.”
“Oh dear me,” said Mrs. Beehive, “surely we have got beyond those days when it was ‘bacon and eggs, eggs and bacon,’ every morning. The Americans have done so much for us there: all sorts of tempting little hot dishes can be made—and fruit; you should give your husband fruit, it is so good for him.”
“Paul won’t eat fruit,” said the bride.
“Well, then, try him with some light, vegetarian dishes,” said Mrs. Beehive, now quite in her element. “Onions farcies, tomatoes and cheese, ramekins of prawns, soufflés of liver, réchauffés of marrow on a hard-boiled egg, with soubise sauce——”
