124 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



Dinner was a wondrous affair, a monument of 

 man's misplaced skill. Tinned soup, salmon and 

 trout disguised in a variety of ways — one night I 

 remember it was in mayonnaise, really fine 

 mayonnaise, besprinkled with all kinds of orna- 

 ments, but the big trout reposed on a green bed 

 of cabbage, because there was no lettuce grown 

 in the neglected garden. 



Entrees, wondrous to behold. An apologetic 

 interlude of plain mutton or chicken flanked by 

 tinned vegetables and be-sauced, and then a master- 

 piece of spun sugar, glittering and wonderful, or 

 some frosted cake all whip and jam. 



There was a bathroom, but the water did not 

 heat there, and it was evidently not good form to 

 expect it to or to try to have a bath. 



I remember that when faithful boots had 

 brought the jug of water and one bathed somehow 

 in a basin, how, like man Friday, wet feet left deep 

 imprints on the varnished floor, but here it was 

 in dust and not in sand. 



** They are getting in a girl off the bog to give 

 a whip around," confided boots to me. " There's 

 three housemaids gone away in three weeks." 



And there were two elegantly dressed daughters 

 of the house who might have done housemaid's 

 work themselves. 



One waited hungrily for breakfast in the big 

 chill dining-room with its comfortless Unoleumed 

 floor. 



