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He was the cook at No. 30, a genial soul, who always rushed out in the early hours of the morning when one was feeling emptiest, with a cup of hot soup. He called it doing his bit, and always referred to himself proudly as the "Bovril king." Alas, he was now being invalided home with bronchitis!
"It is the first Christmas number that starts me off," I told him; "those beautiful pictures the sweet child looking so pretty in her furs, giving Bovril with her own dear little hands to the shivering street arab; the good old red-faced squire shovelling out plum pudding to the crowd of grateful villagers. It makes me yearn to borrow a collecting box and go round doing good myself.
I call my stay in the desert 'the Surrey week. It is such fun. You will come, won't you?" Lady Locke was laughing almost against her will. "Is Jim to be there?" she asked, putting the china bowl, that had held her Bovril, down upon the tiny table, covered with absurd silver knickknacks, at her side. "Dear no. Jim stays in town, and has his annual rowdy-dowdy week.
Now, as you know, every train stops, and Spiers and Pond are there, and you can lunch and have Bovril and Oxo.
"I'm just going to tidy up a bit," she said. "Then I'm coming to bed." "I wish you'd get me something.... Some Bovril ... or ... something." Gaga was like a wasted child, not fractious, but fretful and wanting to be petted. Sally shuddered as she took steps to gratify him; and was glad to have some occupation that carried her out of the room and gave her something to do.
On the whole, then, there was cause for thankfulness, and as she added a tin of biscuits and two jars of bovril to her prudent stores, she found herself a conscious sceptic about those Roman roads. She was sorry to believe it, but it was her duty to believe something of the kind, and she really did not know what else to believe.
The Bovril Co. alone kills 100,000 a year. On its broad plains there are estandas, or cattle ranches, of fifty and one hundred thousand acres in extent, and on these cattle, horses and sheep are herded in millions.
"Milk! There is no milk in Medua," said the sergeant. "No tinned milk eggs to be bought?" "Nothing, no meat; we have not even enough bread, and that is all we get." Very depressed, we sent them the remains of our Bovril and some tins of milk from the tiny hotel store, and bought the last three eggs in the place. "Can't you send for more?" we asked.
Then return the rabbit to the pan, seasoning all with salt and pepper, adding as well three bay-leaves, two cloves, and two white peppers. If you have any gravy, add a pint of it, but in default of gravy add the same quantity of Bovril and water. Place on the fire till it boils, then draw it to the side and let it cook there gently for three-quarters of an hour.
That must be so sweet for the Bovril to be understood! Do you like Lord Reggie?" "He has a beautiful face. How old is he? Twenty?" "Oh no, nearly twenty-five. Three years younger than you are. That is all." "He looks astonishingly young." "Yes. He says that his sins keep him fresh. A sinner with a young lamb's heart among the full grown flocks of saints, you know. Such a quaint idea, so original."
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