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She always manages to have something for the entertainment of her friends, so that they are not reduced to the simple alternatives of gaping at each other's dresses and eating lobster-salad and ice-cream.
And I do believe I could drink a whole bottle of champagne. Mat. I don't know what one of those things tastes like scarce one; and I don't believe you do either. Sus. Don't I? I never did taste champagne, but I've seen them eating lobster-salad many a time; girls not half so good-lookin' as you or me, Mattie, and fine gentlemen a waitin' upon 'em. Oh dear! I am so hungry!
Though her poems breathe only of love, Miss B. has never been married. She is nearly six feet high; she loves waltzing beyond even poesy; and I think lobster-salad as much as either. For a woman all soul, she certainly eats as much as any woman I ever saw.
Well, but Nares says it was a real blessing to them; for before it old Nares was always in a rage, and his mother boohooing; and now it is over they live like fighting-cocks, on champagne, and lobster-salad, and mulli what's his name? first chop; and the women dress in silks and velvets and feathers, no end of swells! and they say it is regular stoopid to pinch like that, for no one will believe we ain't going to smash while she is such a screw!
Vavasour, bowing himself free from a "comfortable" looking matron, hurried up. "Our dance, Miss Leigh. I thought I should never be in time. She was twenty minutes at the chicken and lobster-salad, and then went in for sweets." "I must go and give my girl a turn, I suppose," whispered Bertie. "She's guarding the outposts so no chance of giving her the slip. She'd go raging off to the Colonel.
But no sooner were we all gay and happy in the house again, running out as we pleased, beginning to think of parties and drives and theatres and all enjoyment and rather unobservant, as young folks are apt to be unobservant of Aunt Pen's slight habitual pensiveness in the absence of guests or excitement, and of her ways generally than Aunt Pen would challenge some lobster-salad to mortal combat, and, of course, come out floored by the colic.
We all know that sort of transaction: the squabbling, and gobbling, and popping of champagne; the smell of musk and lobster-salad; the dowagers chumping away at plates of raised pie; the young lassies nibbling at little titbits, which the dexterous young gentlemen procure. Three large men, like doctors of divinity, wait behind the table, and furnish everything that appetite can ask for.
Tea, indeed! Fawn-colour, trimmed with sky-blue! If you'd mentioned lobster-salad and sherry, now! Mat. I never tasted lobster-salad. Sus. I have, though; and I do call lobster-salad good. You don't care about your wittles: I do. When I'm hungry, I'm not at all comfortable. Mat. Poor dear Sue! There is a crust in the cupboard. Sus. I can't eat crusts. I want summat nice. I ain't dyin' of 'unger.
There was a delicious lobster-salad, a dish of cold cutlets and jelly, and a great heap of strawberries with cream. "Now get to business," said Mrs. Wilders, in a snarling, ill-tempered way; "let's have it out." "It's a pity you are out of humour this morning," observed Mr. Hobson, with a provoking forbearance. "I have come to find fault." Mrs.
"We'll have lobster-salad and champagne," said the little monster, who could not construe a line of Latin, or do a sum beyond the Rule of Three. Now, for lobster-salad and champagne in an honourable manner, Miss Costigan would have gone anywhere and Major Pendennis actually found himself at seven o'clock seated at a dinner-table in company with Mr.
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