"_And we meet, with champagne and chicken, at last._"
ANY one can go to market if she has the wherewithal and secure any
kind of game that happens to be on the list and be happy in the
purchase and eating of it, I dare say. But the happiest dames in these
times are those who have a husband or sweetheart in the field shooting
straight to the mark with all thoughts for the recipient of his day's
work. So it comes to pass that by express to many a door there come on
these fine crisp mornings boxes or hampers of game birds. The next
thing, of course, is to get one's neighbors in to partake of them in
order that they may be set by the ears with envy. I am with you. I
will help you to make this envy business complete while you are about
it.
There shall be a dinner given--a dinner which by a wise and palatable
arrangement of courses shall lead up to the game.
Now, you know all about scallops, of course--and by "all" you mean
fried and served with tartar sauce. Bah! to you and your stereotyped
dishes. Novelty I beg of you, and then put in your way the means to do
as I beg. Do you appreciate it, I wonder? I doubt it.