“What would you like for lunch to-day, sir?” Mrs. Purvis would say. “‘Ave you decided?”
“No, Mrs. Purvis. What would you suggest? Let’s see. We had the chump chop yesterday, didn’t we, and the sprouts?”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Purvis would reply, “and the day before—Monday, you may recall—we ‘ad rump steak with potato chips.”
“Yes, and it was good, too. Well, then, suppose we have rump steak again?”
“Very good, sir,” Mrs. Purvis would say, with perfect courtesy, but with a rising intonation of the voice which somehow suggested, delicately and yet unmistakably, that he could do as he pleased, but mat she rather thought his choice was not the best.
Feeling this, George would immediately have doubts. He would say:
“Oh, wait a minute. We’ve been having steak quite often, haven’t we?”
“You ‘ave ‘ad it quite a bit, sir,” she would say quietly, not with reproof, but with just a trace of confirmation. “Still, of course----” She would not finish, but would pause and wait.
“Well, rump steak is good. All that we’ve had was first-rate. Still, maybe we could have something else to-day, for a change. What do you think?”
“Should think so, sir, if you feel that way,” she said quietly. “After all, one does like a bit of variety now and then, doesn’t one?”
“Of course. Well, then, what shall it be? What would you suggest, Mrs. Purvis?”
“Well, sir, if I may say so, a bit of gammon and peas is rather nice sometimes,” with just a trace of shyness and diffidence, mixed with an engaging tinge of warmth as she relented into the informality of mild enthusiasm. “I ‘ad a look in at the butcher’s as I came by this mornin’, and the gammon was nice, sir. It was a prime bit, sir,” she said now with genuine warmth. “Prime.”
After this, of course, he could not tell her that he had not the faintest notion what gammon was. He could only look delighted and respond:
“Then, by all means, let’s have gammon and peas. I think it’s just the thing to-day.”
“Very good, sir.” She had drawn herself up again; the formal intonation of the words had put her back within the fortress of aloofness, and had put him back upon his heels.
It was a curious and disquieting experience, one that he was often to have with English people. Just when he thought that finally the bars were down and the last barriers of reserve broken through, just when they had begun to talk with mutual warmth and enthusiasm, these English would be back behind the barricade, leaving him to feel that it was all to do over again.
“Now for your breakfast to-morrow mornin’,” Mrs. Purvis would continue. “‘Ave you decided what you’d like?”
“No, Mrs. Purvis. Have we anything on hand? How are our supplies holding out?”
“They are a bit low, sir,” she admitted. “We ‘ave eggs. There is still butter left, and ‘arf a loaf of bread. We’re gittin’ low on tea, sir. But you could ‘ave eggs, sir, if you like.”
Something in the faint formality of the tone informed him that even though he might like to have eggs, Mrs. Purvis would not approve, so he said quickly:
“Oh, no, Mrs. Purvis. Get the tea, of course, but no more eggs. I think we’ve had too many eggs, don’t you?”
“You ‘ave, sir, you know,” she said gently—“for the last three mornin’s, at any rate. Still—” Again she paused, as if to say that if he was determined to go on having eggs, he should have them.
“Oh, no. We mustn’t have eggs again. If we keep on at this rate, we’ll get to the point where we can’t look an egg in the face again, won’t we?”
She laughed suddenly, a jolly and full-throated laugh. “We will, sir, won’t we?” said Mrs. Purvis, and laughed again. “Excuse me for larfin’, sir, but the way you put it, I ‘ad to larf. It was quite amusin’, really.”
“Well, then, Mrs. Purvis, maybe you’ve got some ideas. It’s not going to be eggs, that’s one thing sure.”
“Well, sir, ‘ave you tried kippers yet? Kippers are quite nice, sir,” she went on, with another momentary mellowing into warmth. “If you’re lookin’ for a change, you could do worse than kippers. Really you could, sir.”
“Well, then, we’ll have kippers. They’re the very thing.”
“Very good, sir,” She hesitated a moment and then said: “About your supper, sir—I was thinkin’----”
“Yes, Mrs. Purvis?”
“It just occurred to me, sir, that, seein’ as I’m not here at night to cook you a ‘ot meal, we might lay in somethin’ you could prepare for yourself. I was thinkin’ the other day, sir, workin’ as you do, you must get ‘ungry in the middle of the night, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it, sir, if you could have somethin’ on ‘and?”