"Yes, sir," said Mr. Bates.
The Professor went out into the larder, returning almost immediately with the required provisions.
"If you will cook these," he said, "I will go on with laying the table."
"Oh, don't you trouble, sir—I can do it, sir," protested Mr. Bates.
"Please do what you are asked, Mr. Bates. And you might make some tea at the same time; the canister is on the shelf above you."
"Yes, sir."
"And bring it all into the kitchen as soon as it is ready."
"Yes, sir."
The fragrant smell of the hissing eggs and bacon was the most exquisite torture to Mr. Bates. An agonised longing to seize some of the food and stuff it into his mouth almost dazed him with its intensity. Nevertheless, he firmly proceeded with his task, turning out a succulent steaming dish, just cooked to precisely the right point. Then he made the tea, and taking down a plate which he had put to warm, placed the whole lot upon a tray, and carried it into the kitchen. The Professor was sitting at the table, which was laid for two.
"Excellent," he said, taking off the cover and looking at the contents. "But how is this—you have only brought one hot plate?"