You shall see." With those words he retired into the back room.

While he was gone, Magdalen stole another look at Mrs.Wragge.Was she still self-isolated from her husband's deluge of words?
Perfectly self-isolated.

She had advanced the imaginary omelette to the last stage of culinary progress; and she was now rehearsing the final operation of turning it over--with the palm of her hand to represent the dish, and the cookery-book to impersonate the frying-pan.

"I've got it," said Mrs.Wragge, nodding across the room at Magdalen.

"First put the frying-pan on the dish, and then tumble both of them over." Captain Wragge returned, carrying a neat black dispatch-box, adorned with a bright brass lock.