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"I think," said Rhyming Joe, as the man shuffled away, "that my young friend would like a dish of soup, then a bit of tenderloin, and a little chicken-salad, and some quail on toast, with the vegetables and accessories. For dessert we will have some ices, a few chocolate eclairs and lady-fingers, and a cup of black coffee.
"If people of my age WILL eat chicken-salad in the evening what are they to expect?" she enquired; and, the doctor having opportunely modified her dietary, the stroke was transformed into an attack of indigestion. But in spite of her firm tone old Catherine did not wholly recover her former attitude toward life.
Then there were dishes of stewed terrapin, into which the initiated dipped at once, and to which they for some time gave their undivided attention, oblivious, apparently, of the fact that there was a dish of chicken-salad close beside them.
"What earthly need is there of a grand regale of oysters, chicken-salad, ice-creams, coffee, and champagne, between eleven and twelve o'clock at night, when no one of us would ever think of wanting or taking any such articles upon our stomachs in our own homes?
Mrs. Marshall did not follow, and did not care. "What?" she said indifferently, tasting the chicken-salad in the big yellow bowl, and, with an expression of serious consideration, adding a little more salt to it.
After the chicken-salad and coffee had been successfully served and eaten, one of the Seniors stepped forward with an awkward crudeness and presented Professor Marshall with a silver-mounted blotting-pad.
Make a dressing as for a chicken-salad, with the yolks of nine hard-boiled eggs, half a pint of sweet oil, half a pint of vinegar, a gill of mustard, a tea-spoonful of cayenne, and a tea-spoonful of salt. Mix all well together with a wooden spoon. A few minutes before it is to be eaten, pour the dressing over the lobster and lettuce and mix it very well. Take a quart of fresh mushrooms.
As we lingered over our chicken-salad, fruit, and cool drinks, and lazily watched our camels munching bersim, all our first enthusiasm for these interesting beasts streamed back. The ladies called them poor dears, and sweet things; and the men marvelled at their calm endurance, or the number of their leg-joints.
We sit round the snowy table, in the pleasant light of the shaded lamps, eating chicken-salad, and abasing and rifling the great red pyramids of strawberries and raspberries, but talking not much. We young ones never can talk out loud before father. He has never heard our voices raised much above a whisper.
"Taking for granted then, that we have the boned turkey, what shall we put down next?" asked Miss Emmeline. "Terrapin-soup, pickled-oysters, lobsters, chicken-salad, and anything in the way of game that can be found in the market; do you think that will do for the substantial dishes, Mrs. Bibbs?" Mrs.
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