A Little Dinner at Timmins's Read online

relished by Lord Fortyskewer and Lord Rolls; Sir Lawrence Porker

  ate twice of it after Exeter races; and I think it might be good

  enough for--"

  "I will NOT have it, mamma!" said Rosa, with a stamp of her foot;

  and Mrs. Gashleigh knew what resolution there was in that. Once,

  when she had tried to physic the baby, there had been a similar

  fight between them.

  So Mrs. Gashleigh made out a carte, in which the soup was left with

  a dash--a melancholy vacuum; and in which the pigeons were

  certainly thrust in among the entrees; but Rosa determined they

  never should make an entree at all into HER dinner-party, but that

  she would have the dinner her own way.

  When Fitz returned, then, and after he had paid the little bill of

  6L. 14s. 6d. for the glass, Rosa flew to him with her sweetest

  smiles, and the baby in her arms. And after she had made him

  remark how the child grew every day more and more like him, and

  after she had treated him to a number of compliments and caresses,

  which it were positively fulsome to exhibit in public, and after

  she had soothed him into good humor by her artless tenderness, she

  began to speak to him about some little points which she had at

  heart.

  She pointed out with a sigh how shabby the old curtains looked

  since the dear new glasses which her darling Fitz had given her had

  been put up in the drawing-room. Muslin curtains cost nothing, and

  she must and would have them.

  The muslin curtains were accorded. She and Fitz went and bought

  them at Shoolbred's, when you may be sure she treated herself

  likewise to a neat, sweet pretty half-mourning (for the Court, you

  know, is in mourning)--a neat sweet barege, or calimanco, or

  bombazine, or tiffany, or some such thing; but Madame Camille, of

  Regent Street, made it up, and Rosa looked like an angel in it on

  the night of her little dinner.

  "And, my sweet," she continued, after the curtains had been

  accorded, "mamma and I have been talking about the dinner. She

  wants to make it very expensive, which I cannot allow. I have been

  thinking of a delightful and economical plan, and you, my sweetest

  Fitz, must put it into execution."

  "I have cooked a mutton-chop when I was in chambers," Fitz said

  with a laugh. "Am I to put on a cap and an apron?"

  "No: but you are to go to the 'Megatherium Club' (where, you

  wretch, you are always going without my leave), and you are to beg

  Monsieur Mirobolant, your famous cook, to send you one of his best

  aides-de-camp, as I know he will, and with his aid we can dress the

  dinner and the confectionery at home for ALMOST NOTHING, and we can

  show those purse-proud Topham Sawyers and Rowdys that the HUMBLE

  COTTAGE can furnish forth an elegant entertainment as well as the

  gilded halls of wealth."

  Fitz agreed to speak to Monsieur Mirobolant. If Rosa had had a

  fancy for the cook of the Prime Minister, I believe the deluded

  creature of a husband would have asked Lord John for the loan of

  him.

  IV.

  Fitzroy Timmins, whose taste for wine is remarkable for so young a

  man, is a member of the committee of the "Megatherium Club," and

  the great Mirobolant, good-natured as all great men are, was only

  too happy to oblige him. A young friend and protege of his, of

  considerable merit, M. Cavalcadour, happened to be disengaged

  through the lamented death of Lord Hauncher, with whom young

  Cavalcadour had made his debut as an artist. He had nothing to

  refuse to his master, Mirobolant, and would impress himself to be

  useful to a gourmet so distinguished as Monsieur Timmins. Fitz

  went away as pleased as Punch with this encomium of the great

  Mirobolant, and was one of those who voted against the decreasing

  of Mirobolant's salary, when the measure was proposed by Mr.

  Parings, Colonel Close, and the Screw party in the committee of the

  club.

  Faithful to the promise of his great master, the youthful Cavalcadour

  called in Lilliput Street the next day. A rich crimson velvet

  waistcoat, with buttons of blue glass and gold, a variegated blue

  satin stock, over which a graceful mosaic chain hung in glittering

  folds, a white hat worn on one side of his long curling ringlets,

  redolent with the most delightful hair-oil--one of those white hats

  which looks as if it had been just skinned--and a pair of gloves not

  exactly of the color of beurre frais, but of beurre that has been up

  the chimney, with a natty cane with a gilt knob, completed the upper

  part at any rate, of the costume of the young fellow whom the page

  introduced to Mrs. Timmins.

  Her mamma and she had been just having a dispute about the

  gooseberry-cream when Cavalcadour arrived. His presence silenced

  Mrs. Gashleigh; and Rosa, in carrying on a conversation with him in

  the French language--which she had acquired perfectly in an elegant

  finishing establishment in Kensington Square--had a great advantage

  over her mother, who could only pursue the dialogue with very much

  difficulty, eying one or other interlocutor with an alarmed and

  suspicious look, and gasping out "We" whenever she thought a proper

  opportunity arose for the use of that affirmative.

  "I have two leetl menus weez me," said Cavalcadour to Mrs. Gashleigh.

  "Minews--yes,--oh, indeed?" answered the lady.

  "Two little cartes."

  "Oh, two carts! Oh, we," she said. "Coming, I suppose?" And she

  looked out of the window to see if they were there.

  Cavalcadour smiled. He produced from a pocket-book a pink paper

  and a blue paper, on which he had written two bills of fare--the

  last two which he had composed for the lamented Hauncher--and he

  handed these over to Mrs. Fitzroy.

  The poor little woman was dreadfully puzzled with these documents,

  (she has them in her possession still,) and began to read from the

  pink one as follows:--

  "DINER POUR 16 PERSONNES.

  Potage (clair) a la Rigodon.

  Do. a la Prince de Tombuctou.

  Deux Poissons.

  Saumon de Severne Rougets Gratines

  a la Boadicee. a la Cleopatre.

  Deux Releves.

  Le Chapeau-a-trois-cornes farci a la Robespierre.

  Le Tire-botte a l'Odalisque.

  Six Entrees.

  Saute de Hannetons a l'Epingliere.

  Cotelettes a la Megatherium.

  Bourrasque de Veau a la Palsambleu.

  Laitances de Carpe en goguette a la Reine Pomare.

  Turban de Volaille a l'Archeveque de Cantorbery."

  And so on with the entremets, and hors d'oeuvres, and the rotis,

  and the releves.

  "Madame will see that the dinners are quite simple," said M.

  Cavalcadour.

  "Oh, quite!" said Rosa, dreadfully puzzled.

  "Which would Madame like?"

  "Which would we like, mamma?" Rosa asked; adding, as if after a


  little thought, "I think, sir, we should prefer the blue one." At

  which Mrs. Gashleigh nodded as knowingly as she could; though pink

  or blue, I defy anybody to know what these cooks mean by their

  jargon.

  "If you please, Madame, we will go down below and examine the scene

  of operations," Monsieur Cavalcadour said; and so he was marshalled

  down the stairs to the kitchen, which he didn't like to name, and

  appeared before the cook in all his splendor.

  He cast a rapid glance round the premises, and a smile of something

  like contempt lighted up his features. "Will you bring pen and

  ink, if you please, and I will write down a few of the articles

  which will be necessary for us? We shall require, if you please,

  eight more stew-pans, a couple of braising-pans, eight saute-pans,

  six bainmarie-pans, a freezing-pot with accessories, and a few more

  articles of which I will inscribe the names." And Mr. Cavalcadour

  did so, dashing down, with the rapidity of genius, a tremendous

  list of ironmongery goods, which he handed over to Mrs. Timmins.

  She and her mamma were quite frightened by the awful catalogue.

  "I will call three days hence and superintend the progress of

  matters; and we will make the stock for the soup the day before the

  dinner."

  "Don't you think, sir," here interposed Mrs. Gashleigh, "that one

  soup--a fine rich mock-turtle, such as I have seen in the best

  houses in the West of England, and such as the late Lord

  Fortyskewer--"

  "You will get what is wanted for the soups, if you please," Mr.

  Cavalcadour continued, not heeding this interruption, and as bold

  as a captain on his own quarter-deck: "for the stock of clear soup,

  you will get a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham."

  "We, munseer," said the cook, dropping a terrified curtsy: "a leg

  of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham."

  "You can't serve a leg of veal at a party," said Mrs. Gashleigh;

  "and a leg of beef is not a company dish."

  "Madame, they are to make the stock of the clear soup," Mr.

  Cavalcadour said.

  "WHAT!" cried Mrs. Gashleigh; and the cook repeated his former

  expression.

  "Never, whilst I am in this house," cried out Mrs. Gashleigh,

  indignantly; "never in a Christian ENGLISH household; never shall

  such sinful waste be permitted by ME. If you wish me to dine,

  Rosa, you must get a dinner less EXPENSIVE. The Right Honorable

  Lord Fortyskewer could dine, sir, without these wicked luxuries,

  and I presume my daughter's guests can."

  "Madame is perfectly at liberty to decide," said M. Cavalcadour.

  "I came to oblige Madame and my good friend Mirobolant, not

  myself."

  "Thank you, sir, I think it WILL be too expensive," Rosa stammered

  in a great flutter; "but I am very much obliged to you."

  "Il n'y a point d'obligation, Madame," said Monsieur Alcide Camille

  Cavalcadour in his most superb manner; and, making a splendid bow

  to the lady of the house, was respectfully conducted to the upper

  regions by little Buttons, leaving Rosa frightened, the cook amazed

  and silent, and Mrs. Gashleigh boiling with indignation against the

  dresser.

  Up to that moment, Mrs. Blowser, the cook, who had come out of

  Devonshire with Mrs. Gashleigh (of course that lady garrisoned her

  daughter's house with servants, and expected them to give her

  information of everything which took place there) up to that

  moment, I say, the cook had been quite contented with that

  subterraneous station which she occupied in life, and had a pride

  in keeping her kitchen neat, bright, and clean. It was, in her

  opinion, the comfortablest room in the house (we all thought so

  when we came down of a night to smoke there), and the handsomest

  kitchen in Lilliput Street.

  But after the visit of Cavalcadour, the cook became quite

  discontented and uneasy in her mind. She talked in a melancholy

  manner over the area-railings to the cooks at twenty-three and

  twenty-five. She stepped over the way, and conferred with the cook

  there. She made inquiries at the baker's and at other places about

  the kitchens in the great houses in Brobdingnag Gardens, and how

  many spits, bangmarry-pans, and stoo-pans they had. She thought

  she could not do with an occasional help, but must have a kitchen-

  maid. And she was often discovered by a gentleman of the police

  force, who was, I believe, her cousin, and occasionally visited her

  when Mrs. Gashleigh was not in the house or spying it:--she was

  discovered seated with MRS. RUNDELL in her lap, its leaves

  bespattered with her tears. "My pease be gone, Pelisse," she said,

  "zins I zaw that ther Franchman!" And it was all the faithful

  fellow could do to console her.

  "---- the dinner!" said Timmins, in a rage at last. "Having it

  cooked in the house is out of the question. The bother of it, and

  the row your mother makes, are enough to drive one mad. It won't

  happen again, I can promise you, Rosa. Order it at Fubsby's, at

  once. You can have everything from Fubsby's--from footmen to

  saltspoons. Let's go and order it at Fubsby's."

  "Darling, if you don't mind the expense, and it will be any relief

  to you, let us do as you wish," Rosa said; and she put on her

  bonnet, and they went off to the grand cook and confectioner of the

  Brobdingnag quarter.

  V.

  On the arm of her Fitzroy, Rosa went off to Fubsby's, that

  magnificent shop at the corner of Parliament Place and Alicompayne

  Square,--a shop into which the rogue had often cast a glance of

  approbation as he passed: for there are not only the most wonderful

  and delicious cakes and confections in the window, but at the

  counter there are almost sure to be three or four of the prettiest

  women in the whole of this world, with little darling caps of the

  last French make, with beautiful wavy hair, and the neatest

  possible waists and aprons.

  Yes, there they sit; and others, perhaps, besides Fitz have cast a

  sheep's-eye through those enormous plate-glass windowpanes. I

  suppose it is the fact of perpetually living among such a quantity

  of good things that makes those young ladies so beautiful. They

  come into the place, let us say, like ordinary people, and

  gradually grow handsomer and handsomer, until they grow out into

  the perfect angels you see. It can't be otherwise: if you and I,

  my dear fellow, were to have a course of that place, we should

  become beautiful too. They live in an atmosphere of the most

  delicious pine-apples, blanc-manges, creams, (some whipt, and some

  so good that of course they don't want whipping,) jellies, tipsy-

  cakes, cherry-brandy--one hundred thousand sweet and lovely things.

  Look at the preserved fruits, look at the golden ginger, the

  outspreading ananas, the darling little rogues of China oranges,

  ranged in the gleaming crystal cylinders. Mon Dieu! Look at the

  strawberries in the leaves. Each of them is as large nearly as a

  lady's reticule, and looks as if it had been brought up in a
/>   nursery to itself. One of those strawberries is a meal for those

  young ladies, behind the counter; they nibble off a little from the

  side, and if they are very hungry, which can scarcely ever happen,

  they are allowed to go to the crystal canisters and take out a

  rout-cake or macaroon. In the evening they sit and tell each other

  little riddles out of the bonbons; and when they wish to amuse

  themselves, they read the most delightful remarks, in the French

  language, about Love, and Cupid, and Beauty, before they place them

  inside the crackers. They always are writing down good things into

  Mr. Fubsby's ledgers. It must be a perfect feast to read them.

  Talk of the Garden of Eden! I believe it was nothing to Mr.

  Fubsby's house; and I have no doubt that after those young ladies

  have been there a certain time, they get to such a pitch of

  loveliness at last, that they become complete angels, with wings

  sprouting out of their lovely shoulders, when (after giving just a

  preparatory balance or two) they fly up to the counter and perch

  there for a minute, hop down again, and affectionately kiss the

  other young ladies, and say, "Good-by, dears! We shall meet again

  la haut." And then with a whir of their deliciously scented wings,

  away they fly for good, whisking over the trees of Brobdingnag

  Square, and up into the sky, as the policeman touches his hat.

  It is up there that they invent the legends for the crackers, and

  the wonderful riddles and remarks on the bonbons. No mortal, I am

  sure, could write them.

  I never saw a man in such a state as Fitzroy Timmins in the

  presence of those ravishing houris. Mrs. Fitz having explained

  that they required a dinner for twenty persons, the chief young

  lady asked what Mr. and Mrs. Fitz would like, and named a thousand

  things, each better than the other, to all of which Fitz instantly

  said yes. The wretch was in such a state of infatuation that I

  believe if that lady had proposed to him a fricasseed elephant, or

  a boa-constrictor in jelly, he would have said, "O yes, certainly;

  put it down."

  That Peri wrote down in her album a list of things which it would

  make your mouth water to listen to. But she took it all quite

  calmly. Heaven bless you! THEY don't care about things that are no

  delicacies to them! But whatever she chose to write down, Fitzroy

  let her.

  After the dinner and dessert were ordered (at Fubsby's they furnish

  everything: dinner and dessert, plate and china, servants in your

  own livery, and, if you please, guests of title too), the married

  couple retreated from that shop of wonders; Rosa delighted that the

  trouble of the dinner was all off their hands but she was afraid it

  would be rather expensive.

  "Nothing can be too expensive which pleases YOU, dear," Fitz said.

  "By the way, one of those young women was rather good-looking,"

  Rosa remarked: "the one in the cap with the blue ribbons." (And

  she cast about the shape of the cap in her mind, and determined to

  have exactly such another.)

  "Think so? I didn't observe," said the miserable hypocrite by her

  side; and when he had seen Rosa home, he went back, like an

  infamous fiend, to order something else which he had forgotten, he

  said, at Fubsby's. Get out of that Paradise, you cowardly,

  creeping, vile serpent you!

  Until the day of the dinner, the infatuated fop was ALWAYS going to

  Fubsby's. HE WAS REMARKED THERE. He used to go before he went to

  chambers in the morning, and sometimes on his return from the

  Temple: but the morning was the time which he preferred; and one

  day, when he went on one of his eternal pretexts, and was

  chattering and flirting at the counter, a lady who had been reading

  yesterday's paper and eating a halfpenny bun for an hour in the

  back shop (if that paradise may be called a shop)--a lady stepped

  forward, laid down the Morning Herald, and confronted him.