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“I have cooked a mutton-chop when I was in chambers,” Fitz said with a laugh. “Am I to put on a cap and an apron?”

“No: but you are to go to the ‘Megatherium Club’ (where, you wretch, you are always going without my leave), and you are to beg Monsieur Mirobolant, your famous cook, to send you one of his best aides-de-camp, as I know he will, and with his aid we can dress the dinner and the confectionery at home for ALMOST NOTHING, and we can show those purse-proud Topham Sawyers and Rowdys that the HUMBLE COTTAGE can furnish forth an elegant entertainment as well as the gilded halls of wealth.”

Fitz agreed to speak to Monsieur Mirobolant. If Rosa had had a fancy for the cook of the Prime Minister, I believe the deluded creature of a husband would have asked Lord John for the loan of him.

IV.

Fitzroy Timmins, whose taste for wine is remarkable for so young a man, is a member of the committee of the “Megatherium Club,” and the great Mirobolant, good-natured as all great men are, was only too happy to oblige him. A young friend and protege of his, of considerable merit, M. Cavalcadour, happened to be disengaged through the lamented death of Lord Hauncher, with whom young Cavalcadour had made his debut as an artist. He had nothing to refuse to his master, Mirobolant, and would impress himself to be useful to a gourmet so distinguished as Monsieur Timmins. Fitz went away as pleased as Punch with this encomium of the great Mirobolant, and was one of those who voted against the decreasing of Mirobolant’s salary, when the measure was proposed by Mr. Parings, Colonel Close, and the Screw party in the committee of the club.

Faithful to the promise of his great master, the youthful Cavalcadour called in Lilliput Street the next day. A rich crimson velvet waistcoat, with buttons of blue glass and gold, a variegated blue satin stock, over which a graceful mosaic chain hung in glittering folds, a white hat worn on one side of his long curling ringlets, redolent with the most delightful hair-oil–one of those white hats which looks as if it had been just skinned–and a pair of gloves not exactly of the color of beurre frais, but of beurre that has been up the chimney, with a natty cane with a gilt knob, completed the upper part at any rate, of the costume of the young fellow whom the page introduced to Mrs. Timmins.

Her mamma and she had been just having a dispute about the gooseberry-cream when Cavalcadour arrived. His presence silenced Mrs. Gashleigh; and Rosa, in carrying on a conversation with him in the French language–which she had acquired perfectly in an elegant finishing establishment in Kensington Square–had a great advantage over her mother, who could only pursue the dialogue with very much difficulty, eying one or other interlocutor with an alarmed and suspicious look, and gasping out “We” whenever she thought a proper opportunity arose for the use of that affirmative.

“I have two leetl menus weez me,” said Cavalcadour to Mrs. Gashleigh.

“Minews–yes,–oh, indeed?” answered the lady.

“Two little cartes.”

“Oh, two carts! Oh, we,” she said. “Coming, I suppose?” And she looked out of the window to see if they were there.

Cavalcadour smiled. He produced from a pocket-book a pink paper and a blue paper, on which he had written two bills of fare–the last two which he had composed for the lamented Hauncher–and he handed these over to Mrs. Fitzroy.

The poor little woman was dreadfully puzzled with these documents, (she has them in her possession still,) and began to read from the pink one as follows:–

 

 "DINER POUR 16 PERSONNES.
 

Potage (clair) a la Rigodon.
Do. a la Prince de Tombuctou.

Deux Poissons.

Saumon de Severne Rougets Gratines
a la Boadicee. a la Cleopatre.