Kit and Kitty: A Story of West Middlesex

by R. D. Blackmore

“Ha, ha! Jealous, is it?” he answered most absurdly. “I’ll keep my eyes wide open, Kit, and report accordingly.”

Sam Henderson was a most hospitable fellow, and not a single word shall pass my lips which might be twisted by captious persons into a reflection upon him. He sat at the bottom of his table, and he never took his eyes from the plates on the right hand and the left, except when he was calling Tom, his groom to change them, or to fetch them that he might put more on each. Even Lady Kickloose, who was a very lovely woman, could not make demand keep pace with the quick abundance of supply. Hence it was the more unreasonable, and I might even say despotic, on the part of the new Mrs. Henderson, that she kept on calling down the table—“Sam, look at father’s plate, he never will mind himself, you know;” or—“Sam, can’t you see that Aunt Maggy has not got a morsel?” or—“Mr. Henderson, Lady Kickloose has never had one drop of gravy!”

“All right, my love. Beg pardon, I am sure. Tom, why don’t you move a little quicker?”—poor Sam Henderson would reply. But I thought it was not “all right, my love,” that a man who was doing his best for us all, and getting but a snap or two for his own mouth, should be hurried and flurried in this sort of way, and almost accused of inattention to his guests. I could scarcely help saying—“Do let him alone;” but I knew the proprieties too well for that.

“You are right, ma’am; she does look beautiful,” I heard my uncle say to one of the three unmarried aunts; and then he gazed at her with as much admiration, as if she had been—no matter who, but some one very different.

And I was pleased to see a large piece of greens drop from his mouth into his grand breast-frill, which put him out of countenance for half an hour. In my poor opinion, his admiration was as much out of place as that piece of greens, though I will not deny that our hostess was what is called a very fine young woman. She wore a dress of green satin, which I never could endure any more than Kitty could; and the way it was cut below the neck and shoulders filled me with surprise that Sam allowed it; but perhaps he could not help himself. I was glad to see Miss Parslow looking shocked, and I glanced at her and then at it, but she did not think fit to comprehend. Uncle Corny on the other hand surprised me by treating it as a joke rather than a scandal; gentlemen wore cut-away coats, he said, and why should not ladies wear cut-away gowns?

Presently I happened to catch some words from the lower end of the table, which drew my attention from Sam’s wife, and brought it back to my own affairs. The dinner was a very good and solid one; not fifty varieties of unknown substance, such as we too often meet with; and yet quite enough of change for the most inconstant person. There was very nice white soup, and mock turtle—not the real, such as my Aunt Parslow gave, but quite as good, if not better—then a cod of great size and high character, with oysters as fat as mushrooms; and after that a saddle of mutton at one end, and an aitch-bone, not over-boiled, at the other; one lying down, and the other standing up. Foreigners may disguise their stuff, which by their own confession requires it. But an Englishman likes to know what he is at, that his conscience may go with his stomach.

These things are trifles, in a way of speaking; but if they lead up to a pleasant state of mind, it is not friendly to neglect them; and my Uncle Corny, who had kept himself to bread and cheese at his proper dinner-time, was rejoicing, as a just man does, in the victory of his merits. Such joy is generally premature; if he had only known what was to come, he would have thrown down knife and fork, and waited.

For as if by magic, there appeared, in front of Sam himself, and almost making him look trivial, the most magnificent bird that ever alighted on any table. I asked a young lady what it was; and she said—“The swan of the Romans.” It did not become me to contradict her; but I thought that the Romans must have owned a breed of swans superior to ours, for this one had a peacock’s tail spread out. Everybody looked at everybody else, while Sam turned his cuffs up, and sharpened a new knife.

“Round with the champagne, Tom! We will drink my wife’s health.” As he spoke, he had his eyes upon the peacock’s tail; and rude as it was, all the company laughed.