"New comers, I suppose ?" "I was sure their names would be quite unfamiliar to your honour," remarked the priest smiling, and he led his guest into his narrow dwelling, looking cautiously round first of all to make sure that nobody was listening.

Once inside he carefully barred the door, seated his guest at the carved wooden table, which was covered with a pretty covering made from foal-skin, and filled a dish with fresh maize pottage, adding thereto a ham bone and a jug of mead.

Mr.Gerzson fell to, like a man, on the very first invitation; and each armed with a wooden spoon, attacked the maize pottage from different points till their assiduously tunnelling spoons met together in the centre of the large platter.
"A capital dish, your reverence, really capital." "Very good for poor folks like we are, I admit.

I know you don't have fare like this in Hungary." "I suppose we don't know how to prepare it properly," said Gerzson.
And then the priest explained how hot the water must be when maize meal or sweet-broom meal has to be mixed with it, how the whole mess must be stirred with a spoon, how a little finely grated cheese has to be added to it, and how it had then all to be tied up in a cloth like a plum-pudding and have milk poured over it.

And Squire Gerzson listened to him as attentively as if he had come all the way from Arad to Hidvar on purpose to learn the art of cooking maize pottage.