"What's this! Melted butter! Where's the lobster sauce?"
"There is no lobster sauce to-day," said Mrs. Dare. "We sent late, and the lobsters were all gone. There was a small supply. Joseph, take the anchovy to Mr. Anthony."
Mr. Anthony jerked the anchovy sauce off the salver, dashed some on to his plate, and jerked the bottle back again. Not with a very good grace: his palate was a dainty one. Indeed, it was a family complaint.
"I wouldn't give a fig for salmon without lobster sauce," he cried. "I hope you won't send late again."
"It was the cook's fault," said Mrs. Dare. "She did not fully understand my orders."
"Deaf old creature!" exclaimed Anthony.
"Anthony, there's cucumber," said Julia, looking down the table at her brother. "Ann, take the cucumber to Mr. Anthony."
"You know I never eat cucumber with salmon," grumbled Anthony, in reply. And it was not graciously spoken, for the offer had been dictated by good-nature.
A pause ensued. It was at length broken by Mrs. Dare.
"Herbert, are you growing more reconciled to office-work?"