rstand. Now I taught
Hildegarde some cookery myself. She was not what I should call a
brilliant pupil, but she did grasp the great eternal principles. And yet
I find her writing (_with charm and benevolence_) stuff like her last
article--'The Everlasting Boiled Potato,' I think she called it.
Hildegarde, it was really very naughty of you to say what you said in
that article. (_Drawing down_ Hildegarde's _head and kissing her_.)

TRANTO. Now why, Mrs. Culver? I thought it was so clever.

MRS. CULVER. It may be clever to advocate fried potatoes and chip
potatoes and saute potatoes as a change from the everlasting boiled. I
daresay it's what you call journalism. But how can you fry potatoes
without fat?

TRANTO. Ah! How?

MRS. CULVER. And where are you to obtain fat? _I_ can't obtain fat. I
stand in queues for hours because my servants won't--it's the latest
form of democracy--but _I_ can't obtain fat. I think the nearest fat is
at Stratford-on-Avon.

TRANTO. Stand in queues! Mrs. Culver, you make me feel very guilty,
plunging in at a moment's notice and demanding a whole dinner in a
fatless world. I shall eat nothing but dry bread.

MRS. CULVER. We never serve bread at lunch or dinner unless it's
specially asked for. But if soup, macaroni, eggs, and jelly will keep
you alive till breakfast--

HILDEGARDE. But there's beefsteak, mamma--I've told Mr. Tranto.

MRS. CULVER. Only a little, and that's for your father. Beefsteak's the
one thing that keeps off his neuralgia, Mr. Tranto. (_With apologetic
persuasiveness_.) I'm sure you'll understand.

TRANTO. Dear lady, I've never had neuralgia in my life. Macaroni, eggs,
and jelly are my dream. I've always wanted to feel like an invalid.

MRS. CULVER. And how did you get on with your Medical Board this
morning?

TRANTO. How marvellous of you to remember that I had a Medical Board
this morning! I believe I've found out your secret, Mrs. Culver--you're
undergoing a course of Pelman with those sixty generals and forty
admirals. Well, the Medical Board have given me a new complaint. You'll
be sorry to hear that I'm deformed.

MRS. CULVER. Not deformed!

TRANTO. Yes. It appears I'm flat-footed. (_Extending his leg_.) Have I
ever told you that I had a dashing military career extending over four
months, three of which I spent in hospital for a disease I hadn't got?
Then I was discharged as unfit. After a year they raked me in again.
Since then I've been boarded five time