The beef-tea was the best that could be prepared on such
short notice, and so on.
It was the main course of the meal that brought the climax. It was
roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, excellently cooked, and, so far as we
were concerned, efficiently served. The irrepressible boots had,
however, by this time drifted back to duty. I saw him bear plates to
the old people's table containing a pale mess which I rightly concluded
was the "minced chicken and rice--peptonized," already referred to by
the old gentleman. The couple eyed it suspiciously while their
attendant hovered near, apparently awaiting the congratulations which
were bound to follow the consumption of the dish.
"John, it's beef!" screamed the old lady, starting to her feet and
spluttering.
"Damme, so it is!" confirmed her husband, after a bare mouthful. "Hi,
you--scoundrel, poisoner, assassin--send the manager here at once."
He waved his napkin in fury, and boots cocked an eye at him curiously.
"Won't you have another try?" he urged. "Be sporty about it. Hang it,
it looks like chopped chicken, and it is chopped.
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