himself
later on with pretended enjoyment. I have known him finish a sponge
cake, the centre of which had to be eaten with a teaspoon, declaring it
was delicious; that eating a dry sponge cake was like eating dust; that
a sponge cake ought to be a trifle syrupy towards the centre. Afterwards
he would be strangely silent and drink brandy out of a wine-glass.

"Call these knives clean?" It would be Dan's turn.

"Yes, I do."

Dan would draw his finger across one, producing chiaro-oscuro.

"Not if you go fingering them. Why don't you leave them alone and go on
with your own work?"

"You've just wiped them, that's all."

"Well, there isn't any knife-powder."

"Yes, there is."

"Besides, it ruins knives, over-cleaning them--takes all the edge off.
We shall want them pretty sharp to cut those lemon buns of yours."

"Over-cleaning them! You don't take any pride in the place."

"Good Lord! Don't I work from morning to night?"

"You lazy young devil!"

"Makes one lazy, your cooking. How can a man work when he is suffering
all day long from indigestion?"

But Dan would not be content until I had found the board and cleaned the
knives to his complete satisfaction. Perhaps it was as well that in this
way all things once a week were set in order. After lunch house-maid and
cook would vanish, two carefully dressed gentlemen being left alone to
receive their guests.

These would be gathered generally from among Dan's journalistic
acquaintances and my companions of the theatre. Occasionally, Minikin
and Jarman would be of the number, Mrs. Peedles even once or twice
arriving breathless on our landing. Left to myself, I perhaps should not
have invited them, deeming them hardly fitting company to mingle with
our other visitors; but Dan, having once been introduced to them,
overrode such objection.

"My dear Lord Chamberlain," Dan would reply, "an ounce of originality is
worth a ton of convention. Little tin ladies and gentlemen all made
to pattern! One can find them everywhere. Your friends would be an
acquisition to any society."

"But are they quite good form?" I hinted.

"I'll tell you what we will do," replied Dan. "We'll forget that Mrs.
Peedles keeps a lodging-house in Blackfriars. We will speak of her as
our friend, 'that dear, quaint old creature, Lady P.' A title that is
an oddity, whose costume always suggests the wardrobe of a provincial
actress! My dear Paul, your society novelist would make a fortune out