'What is there to eat ?' 'Nothing.' 'Then let's have it.

I'm hungry.

I'm never so hungry as when I'm being seriously idle.' 'Consomme Britannia,' she began to read out from the menu, 'Saumon d'Ecosse, Sauce Genoise, Aspics de Homard.

Oh, heavens! Who wants these horrid messes on a night like this ?' 'But, Nella, this is the best cooking in Europe,' he protested.
'Say, father,' she said, with seeming irrelevance, 'had you forgotten it's my birthday to-morrow ?' 'Have I ever forgotten your birthday, O most costly daughter ?' 'On the whole you've been a most satisfactory dad,' she answered sweetly, 'and to reward you I'll be content this year with the cheapest birthday treat you ever gave me.

Only I'll have it to-night.' 'Well,' he said, with the long-suffering patience, the readiness for any surprise, of a parent whom Nella had thoroughly trained, 'what is it ?' 'It's this.