"_Unlike my subject now shall be my song;
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long._"
IT was with the thought of Hortensia's garden party weighing somewhat
heavily on my mind that I made my customary tour "all on a market
day," for she had beseeched me with tears in her voice to plan for her
a list of appetizing dishes to put before her guests which should not
be so elaborate as though meant for a grand dinner, nor yet so simple
as if intended for the refreshment of a Sunday-school picnic.
Hortensia would, I felt sure, see to it that the piazzas, grounds, and
tent-like buffet were so decorated and adorned that one would at once
conclude that Flora herself had taken a personal interest in the
appointments, and I firmly resolved that, come what would, my part of
the programme should be carried out in such a manner that reasonable
grounds should be furnished for the supposition that no less a person
than Epicurus had had a finger in the pie. Therefore it was with a
full appreciation of the responsibility I had assumed that I opened
negotiations with the marketman.