get just what you wish for, or as much or as little as you want, and not on that part of the plate where you wish to have it. You are asked, for example—
“Will you have butter?”
“Yes, I thank you.”
And with that comes a piece of butter on the edge of the plate, on which the annoying thought always suggests itself, that it is certainly exactly where the servant put his thumb. Then it goes on:—
“Will you take fish or meat? Chicken or turkey?”
“Chicken, if you please.”
“Have you any choice? The breast, or a wing?”
Then comes, “Will you have pickles?”
“No, I thank you.”
A pause and calm ensues for two minutes. But then somebody on your left discovers that you have no pickles; and pickles come to you from the left. “May I help you to pickles?”
“No, I thank you.”
After a few minutes more somebody on the right sees that you have no pickles, and hastens to offer you the bottle. “Will you not take pickles?”
“No, I thank you.”
You then begin an interesting conversation with your next neighbour; and, just as you are about to ask some question of importance, a person opposite you observes that you are not eating pickles, and the pickle-bottle comes to you across the table, and you are called upon to say once more in self-justification—
“No, I thank you; not any,”—and continue your conversation.
But again, at the moment you are waiting for some reply, interesting to you, comes the servant, perhaps the very best daddy in the whole black world, and shoots the pickle-bottle in between you and your conversible neighbour, and with horror you again behold pickles ready to
