It is a mistake to suppose that, for the preparation of jugged hare, a hare is necessary. Mrs Van Arlen understood very well how to give a dinner, which, to the uninitiate, seemed the finest kind of “company” dinner, and yet consisted of the most commonplace everyday dishes. But there is an infinite difference between rice in a dish and rice in a mould—more especially when the latter is served with lemon sauce. The ham was prepared à la mayonnaise—Van Arlen was so fond of that dish,—he always partook of it when on those mysterious journeys of his; and then—you need not have a whole ham for it, a few slices are quite enough. Moreover, there stood, on the side-table, besides the never-failing ginger and cheese, a silver dish with ten little halfpenny tarts on it. It was quite a splendid dinner; papa and uncle had each a bottle to himself, and besides the ordinary wine glasses there were others of smaller size for the better wine.
But, with all this magnificence, a certain gloom prevailed among the Van Arlens. This is the way with the great ones of the earth; they enjoy wealth and ease without appreciating them.
Prigson, on the other hand, was, as usual, in excellent spirits. He felt in nowise overawed by the splendour of the feast, or the eight silk skirts which rustled round about him.
“You see, it’s just our ordinary family dinner,” said madame, with a pleasant little laugh. Prigson gave the obligatory answer, and paid no attention whatever to the material part of the dinner.
“Which of you girls are going out with me this evening?” he asked. “I can’t take all seven—three is the maximum—or else your father will have to come too.”
“You know, Prigson, my position is such that I cannot devote a single hour to mere enjoyment.”
Madame sighed, and said, in a compassionate tone, that brother could form no idea of the life Van Arlen led.
“No doubt,” said Prigson; “but I admit that it is far from appearing to most people what it really is.” Prigson made the remark entirely without sarcastic intention, and went on, with a smile, “I would bet something that you haven’t even read the paper yet, Van Arlen.”
Van Arlen usually read his daily paper from title to imprint while taking his breakfast; but to-day he had entirely forgotten it.