costumed from head to foot
in spotless linen, he cooked himself in his great kitchen, moving with
flushed, earnest face about the gleaming stove, while behind him his
guests waited, ranged round the massive oaken table glittering with cut
glass and silver, among which fluttered the deft hands of Madeline, his
ancient whitecapped Bonne, much has been already recorded, and by those
possessed of greater knowledge. They who sat there talking in whispers
until such time as old Deleglise turned towards them again, radiant
with consciousness of success, the savoury triumph steaming between his
hands, when, like the sudden swell of the Moonlight Sonata, the talk
would rush once more into a roar, were men whose names were
then--and some are still--more or less household words throughout the
English-speaking world. Artists, musicians, actors, writers, scholars,
droles, their wit and wisdom, their sayings and their doings must be
tolerably familiar to readers of memoir and biography; and if to such
their epigrams appear less brilliant, their jests less laughable than to
us who heard them spoken, that is merely because fashion in humour and
in understanding changes as in all else.

You, gentle reader of my book, I shall not trouble with second-hand
record of that which you can read elsewhere. For me it will be but
to write briefly of my own brief glimpse into that charmed circle.
Concerning this story more are the afternoon At Homes held by Dan and
myself upon the second floor of the old Georgian house in pleasant,
quiet Queen Square. For cook and house-maid on these days it would be a
busy morning. Failing other supervision, Dan and I agreed that to secure
success on these important occasions each of us should criticise the
work of the other. I passed judgment on Dan's cooking, he upon my
house-work.

"Too much soda," I would declare, sampling the cake.

"You silly Juggins! It's meant to taste of soda--it's a soda cake."

"I know that. It isn't meant to taste of nothing but soda. There
wants to be some cake about it also. This thing, so far as flavour
is concerned, is nothing but a Seidlitz powder. You can't give people
solidified Seidlitz powders for tea!"

Dan would fume, but I would remain firm. The soda cake would be laid
aside, and something else attempted. His cookery was the one thing Dan
was obstinate about. He would never admit that anything could possibly
be wrong with it. His most ghastly failures he would devour