Mr. H. Good, very good, thank you; ha! ha! Your generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of Belgrade. You shall hear.
Mar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper?
Mr. H. For supper, sir? Was ever such a request made to a man in his own house?
Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir; I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in the larder, I promise you.
Mr. H. Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. Why, really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle these things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely to them.
Mar. You do, do you?
Mr. H. Entirely. By-the-bye, I believe they are in actual consultation upon what's for supper this moment in the kitchen.
Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of their privy council. It's a way I have got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offense, I hope, sir.
Mr. H. O, no, sir, none in the least; yet I don't know how; our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very communicative upon these occasions. Should we send for her she might scold us all out of the house.
Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, then. I ask it as a favor. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare.