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That line o' talk don't buy you anything," said Holway curtly. "What's the use of beefing?" "Now you're shouting, my friend," agreed old Gideon. "I guess, Elliot, you can loosen up on the chef's throat awhile. He's had persuading enough, don't you reckon? I'll sit here and sorter keep the boys company while you cut the pack-ropes and bring 'em here.
She got up, leaving the basket on the hearth. "And say," she said, "you ought to see that dog now. It's been soakin' in peroxide all day!" She went out with the peroxide, but a moment later she opened the door and stuck her head in, nodding toward the basket. "Say," she said, "the chef's getting fussy about the stuff I'm using in the diet kitchen. You've got to cut it out soon, Minnie.
Lord Eldon said, "It will give me great pleasure to dine with you, and since you are good enough to ask me to order a dish that shall test your new chef's powers I wish you'd tell your Frenchman to fry some liver and bacon for me." "Are you laughing at me or my cook?" asked Sir John Leach, stiffly, thinking that the Chancellor was bent on ridiculing his luxurious mode of living.
Agathe had no attractions for the cook, her tongue was too rough, for she had served in a suburban inn, waiting on carters; and instead of making a conquest of her chief and winning from him the secrets of the high art of the kitchen, she was the object of his great contempt. The chef's attentions were, in fact, devoted to Louise, the Countess Steinbock's maid.
"You haven't taken the dinner out to the shelter-house yet, have you?" "Not yet," I replied. "Tillie hasn't brought the basket. The chef's been fussing about the stuff we're using in the diet kitchen the last few days, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's shut off all extras." But I guess her sister and Mr. Dick could have starved to death just then without her noticing.
Soon her unspoken question was answered; for the Comte de Virieu, clad in riding breeches and a black jersey, came out of the house, and close on his heels trotted M. Polperro, already wearing his white chef's cap and apron. Sylvia could hear his "M'sieur le Comte" this, and "M'sieur le Comte" that, and she smiled a little to herself.
He had brought his old Mississippi cook from the plantation, whose Southern dishes had caused the Secretary of State himself to make the Senator an offer for the chef's services. "No use bidding for old General Washington," said the Senator on that notable occasion. "He wouldn't leave my kitchen, sir, even to accept the presidency itself. Why, I couldn't even discharge him if I wanted to.
And it is therefore a considerable tribute to the malefic influence of apartment-house life that he had no suspicion of the gross anti-social immorality of his act in tipping the chef. Clearly it was an act calculated to undermine the chef's virtue. If all the other experienced dwellers did the same, it was also a silly act, producing no good effect at all.
Madame Victorin, who managed this enormous household with great skill, due, no doubt, to Lisbeth's training, had found it necessary to have a man-cook. This again necessitated a kitchen-maid. Kitchen-maids are in these days ambitious creatures, eager to detect the chef's secrets, and to become cooks as soon as they have learnt to stir a sauce.
"Wrong slot," Trigger told him. He looked back. "Eh?" "You want to put it in the disposal, don't you?" "Thanks," Plemponi said absently. "Always doing that. Confusing them...." He dropped the tray where it belonged, shoved his hands into the chef's cleaning recess and waved them around, then came back, still looking absent-minded, and stopped before Trigger's chair.
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