"Of course there's something coming for me!" he said.
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Dare. "Cook knows you don't like lamb."
Nothing, however, came in. Ann was sent to inquire the reason of the neglect. The cook had been unable to procure veal cutlet, and Master Herbert had said if she ever sent him up a mutton-chop again he should throw it at her head. Such was the message brought back.
"What an old story-teller she must be to say she could not get veal cutlet!" exclaimed Herbert. "I hate mutton and lamb, and I am not going to eat either one or the other."
"I heard the butcher say this morning that he had no veal, Master Herbert," interposed Ann. "This hot weather they don't kill much meat."
"Why have you taken this dislike to lamb, Herbert?" asked Mr. Dare. "You have eaten it all the season."
"That's just it," answered Herbert. "I have eaten so much of it that I am sick of it."
"Never mind, Herbert," said his mother. "There's a cherry tart coming and a delicious lemon pudding. I don't think you can be so very hungry; you went twice to salmon."
Herbert was not in a good humour. All the Dares had been culpably pampered, and of course it bore its fruits. He sat drumming with his silver fork upon the table, condescending to try a little asparagus, and a great deal of both pie and pudding. Cheese, salad, and dessert followed, of which Herbert partook plentifully. Still he thought he was terribly used in not having had different meat specially provided for him; and he could not recover his good humour. I tell you the Dares had been most culpably indulged. The house was one of luxury and profusion, and every little whim and fancy had been studied. It is one of the worst schools a child can be reared in.
The three younger daughters and the governess withdrew, after taking each a glass of wine. Cyril and George went off likewise, to their lessons or to play. It was their own affair, and Mr. Dare made it no concern of his. Presently Mrs. Dare and Adelaide rose.