So John Darling "saved his appetite," dressed himself in his best clothes, and, at the appointed hour—a somewhat later one than his customary time for dining—repaired to Colonel Philpot's.
He met there several of his associates—had a "fine time and a grand dinner"—the utmost hilarity and good feeling prevailed; and Mr. Darling entertained his wife with an account of it at every meal for several weeks.
"Hester," said he one day, as they were seated at a codfish dinner, "did you ever taste a potato pudding?"
"Potato pudding! No; I never heard of such a thing."
"Well, I wish you could, for 'tis delicious! We had one when I dined at Colonel Philpot's."
"I wonder what you didn't have at Colonel Philpot's," said Mrs. Darling. "I declare, I'm tired hearing about it."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing we didn't have—we didn't have codfish. But, that pudding—I wish you'd learn how to make it; it was superb!"
"I presume so; and I guess, if I had half a dozen servants at my heels, and a thorough-trained cook into the bargain, I could have things superb, too. But, as long as I have everything to do myself, and very little to do with, I don't see how I'm to get up things in style. I wonder you can expect me to."
"I don't expect you to, Hester. You always do things to suit my taste. But that pudding was excellent; and, being made of potatoes, I thought, of course, it must be economical, and"—
"Economical! That's all you know about it. What gumps men are! I'll warrant it had forty different things in it, and less potatoes than anything else. I'm no hand to fuss up. I like plain cookery, for my part."