I rejoiced in her beard, and would not have had her without it for worlds, as I selfishly hoped it might stand in her matrimonial path.
This Arcadian state of kitchen affairs went on for exactly a fortnight.
One evening, at the end of that time, we had been out riding, and returned as usual very hungry.

"What are we going to have for supper ?" inquired F----.

I told him what had been ordered; but when that meal made its appearance, lo, there was not a single dish which I had named! The things were not exactly nasty, but they were queer.

For instance, pears are not usually stewed in gravy; but they were by no means bad, and we took it for granted it was something quite new.

The housemaid, Sarah, looked very nervous and scared, and glanced at me from time to time with a very wistful look; but I was so delightfully tired and sleepy--one never seemed to get beyond the pleasant stage of those sensations--that I did not ask any questions.
Next morning, when we came out to breakfast, imagine my astonishment at seeing a tureen of half cold soup on the table, and nothing else! I could hardly believe my eyes, and hastened to the kitchen to explain that this was rather too much of a novelty in the gastronomic line.