I should as soon think of eating the Square Baby, stuffed with sage and onion and garnished with green apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot gosling.
Mrs.Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, ostensibly to ask me to order breakfast, but really for the pleasure of conversation.

Why she should inquire whether I would relish some gammon of bacon with eggs, when she knows that there has not been, is not now, and never will be, anything but gammon of bacon with eggs, is more than I can explain.
"Would you like to see my flowers, miss ?" she asks, folding her plump hands over her white apron.

"They are looking beautiful this morning.

I am so fond of potted plants, of plants in pots.

Look at these geraniums! Now, I consider that pink one a perfect bloom; yes, a perfect bloom.