even two, of them dropped in upon him, he wouldn't have thought much about it; but the idea of four having called at the same time—and that, too, at such a time—certainly did strike him as being most strange.
Half-past six arrived, and there they were still—impatient but merry—hungry but gay—indulging in pointed but lively allusions to maiden dinners and wolfish guests, which, to Sylvester, were wholly incomprehensible.
"Is your cook ill, old fellow?" said one of them.
"Not that I'm aware of."
"I thought that she might have been seized with something suddenly."
"She may have been, for aught I know," said Sylvester, who joined in the general laugh. "I have not had the pleasure of either seeing her lately, or receiving anything from her."
They now thought that something must have occurred in the kitchen, and attributed Sylvester's obvious impatience to some peculiar species of domestic mortification. They, therefore, resolved on waiting till seven without making any further allusion to the subject; but, before that hour had arrived, Sylvester—finding they wouldn't go—said, boldly, "I'll tell you what, gentlemen, I must have my dinner!"
"Do so, by all means," said one of them; "oh, yes; have it up at once."
Well. Sylvester certainly thought this cool; but as it was then quite clear that they meant to see him eat it, he turned and rang the bell.
"Bring up the dinner," said he, when the servant entered.
"Here, sir; in this room?"
"Yes."
The servant looked, and frowned upon them all, which was, perhaps, but natural, seeing that cook had, for nearly two hours, been frowning upon her. She left the room, however, immediately; and on her return laid the cloth for one! The guests glanced at each other, as if they didn't understand this—nor did they: but, conceiving that the servant might feel confused, and that, in her confusion, she had become quite oblivious, they were silent. When, however, the girl—whom they now watched narrowly—brought up the tray, and placed on the table nothing but a small calf's tongue, and a couple of chickens done to rags, the case became, in their judgment, serious.
"I say, old fellow, how's this?" said one of them; "are you going to dine alone?"
"Unless you'll have a cut in with me," replied Sylvester.
"A cut in? What! four or five fellows, as hungry as wolves, cut into a couple of chickens! You know, I suppose, that we came to dine with you?"
"Dine with me? No! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I'd no idea of it!"
"Not after having invited us?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you not send notes to all of us this morning, inviting us to dine with you at five?"
