第25部分(第3/7 頁)

s　been　making　fragrant　toast。　Quickly　her　eye　glances　about　my　room；　but　only　to　have　the　pleasure　of　noting　that　all　is　in　order；　inconceivable　that　anything　serious　should　need　doing　at　this　hour　of　the　day。　She　brings　the　little　table　within　the　glow　of　the　hearth；　so　that　I　can　help　myself　without　changing　my　easy　position。　If　she　speaks；　it　will　only　be　a　pleasant　word　or　two；　should　she　have　anything　important　to　say；　the　moment　will　be　AFTER　tea；　not　before　it；　this　she　knows　by　instinct。　Perchance　she　may　just　stoop　to　sweep　back　a　cinder　which　has　fallen　since；　in　my　absence；　she　looked　after　the　fire；　it　is　done　quickly　and　silently。　Then；　still　smiling；　she　withdraws；　and　I　know　that　she　is　going　to　enjoy　her　own　tea；　her　own　toast；　in　the　warm；　fortable；　sweet…smelling　kitchen。

VII

One　has　heard　much　condemnation　of　the　English　kitchen。　Our　typical　cook　is　spoken　of　as　a　gross；　unimaginative　creature；　capable　only　of　roasting　or　seething。　Our　table　is　said　to　be　such　as　would　weary　or　revolt　any　but　gobbet…bolting　carnivores。　We　are　told　that　our　bread　is　the　worst　in　Europe；　an　indigestible　paste；　that　our　vegetables　are　diet　rather　for　the　hungry　animal　than　for　discriminative　man；　that　our　warm　beverages；　called　coffee　and　tea；　are　so　carelessly　or　ignorantly　brewed　that　they　preserve　no　simple　virtue　of　the　drink　as　it　is　known　in　other　lands。　To　be　sure；　there　is　no　lack　of　evidence　to　explain　such　censure。　The　class　which　provides　our　servants　is　undeniably　coarse　and　stupid；　and　its　handiwork　of　every　kind　too　often　bears　the　native　stamp。　For　all　that；　English　victuals　are；　in　quality；　the　best　in　the　world；　and　English　cookery　is　the　wholesomest　and　the　most　appetizing　known　to　any　temperate　clime。

As　in　so　many　other　of　our　goo