As The Triumphs Ranged Themselves Into A Semi-Circle At The Head Of The
Table, Our First Impulse Was To
Cheer, but obeying a second impulse we
did something infinitely better, for, as Cheon relieved his grinning
waitresses, we assured
Him collectively, and individually, and repeatedly
that never had any one seen anything in Pine Creek so glorious as even
the dimmest shadow of this feast; and as we reiterated our assurance, I
doubt if any man in all the British Empire was prouder or more justified
in his pride than our Cheon. Cook and gardener forsooth! Cheon was
Cheon, and only Cheon; and there is no word in the English language to
define Cheon or the position he filled, simply because there was never
another like Cheon.
"Chuckie!" he sang, placing the pullets before the Maluka, and
dispatching Jimmy's Nellie for hot plates; "Roast Vealer for Mac," and as
Mac smiled and acknowledged the honour, Rosy was dismissed. "Boilee
Ham" was allotted to the Dandy; and as Bertie's Nellie scampered away,
Cheon announced other triumphs in turn and in order of merit, each of the
company receiving a dish also in order of merit: Tam-o'-Shanter
contenting himself with the gravy boat, while, from the beginning, the
Quiet Stockman had been honoured with the hop-beer.
Long before the last waitress was relieved, the carvers were at work, and
the company was bubbling over with merriment. "Have some veal, chaps?"
the Sanguine Scot said, opening the ball by sticking a carving fork into
the great joint, and waving the knife in a general way round the company;
then as the gravy sizzed out in a steaming gurgle he added invitingly:
"Come on, chaps!
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