In the days when Phil had been a daily guest at the Wigwam, chicken-pie was his favourite dish.

That should be the surprise for him.
It was queer how all his little preferences and prejudices came back to her as she set about getting lunch.

He preferred his lemon cut in triangles instead of slices, and he liked the cauliflower in mixed pickles, but not the tiny white onions, and he wanted his fried eggs hard and his boiled eggs soft.

But then, after all, it wasn't so queer that she should remember these things, she thought, for the likes and dislikes of a frequent guest would naturally make an impression on an observant child who took part in all the household work.

It was just the same with other people.