(_Extract from an Earl's Courtier's Notebook_)
6 P.M.--Come down early, to get a table. Can't. All the tables booked a
week in advance. Very angry. Manager says he'll see what can be done for
me--later on. Fairly satisfied. He had better!
7 P.M.--In state of heat. Have a fair appetite. Ask for table. "What
table?" "The one promised me--later on." "Very sorry, but they are all
engaged." Awfully angry. Explain that I am a person of some importance.
Can do the place a great deal of good if I do have a table, and _vice
versâ_. Manager desolated. See everybody else stuffing, drinking, and
enjoying themselves. How they can have the heart! And _I_ table-less!
But, no matter, a time will come. I'll write to "the leading journal"
and denounce everything and everybody.
7.15 P.M.--Explosively wrathful. At last! Ha! ha! Got a table. But at
the back somewhere. Strong smell of cooking. Distant echo of a band.
Exceedingly annoyed. Have tasted _hors d'oeuvres_. Sardines decent.
7.20 P.M.--_Bonne Femme_ soup good. Have ordered champagne cup. Still
annoyed.
7.30 P.M.--Salmon mayonnaise distinctly excellent. Good idea to have
cold dinner. Champagne cup well brewed. Don't notice the smell of
cooking. Can hear the band. Nice band.
7.40 P.M.--_Pâté de fois gras en aspic._ Capital Cold joint. First-rate.
Salad artistically mixed. Second champagne cup as good as first. After
all, place of table not so bad.
[Illustration]
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[Illustration: A TRUE ARTIST.--_Mamma_ (_to Tommy, who has been allowed
for a few minutes to wait at table_). "Now, Tommy, kiss me, and go to
bed."
_Tommy_ (_to footman_). "Do _you_ ever kiss the missus, Charles?"
_Footman._ "No, sir!"
_Tommy._ "Then _I_ won't!"]
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