"It's somethin' too terrible, I do assure you!" she said--"the way these ladies and gentlemen from Lunnon eats fit to bust themselves! When they fust came down, I sez to cook, I sez--'Lord bless 'em, they must 'ave all starved in their own 'omes'--an' she laughed--she 'avin 'sperience, an' cooked for 'ouse-parties ever since she learned makin' may'nases [mayonnaise] which she sez was when she was twenty, an' she's a round sixty now, an' she sez, 'Lor, no! It do frighten one at first wot they can put into their stummicks, Missis Spruce, but don't you worry--you just get the things, and they'll know how to swaller 'em.' Well now, Missis Keeley, if you'll b'lieve me"--and here Mrs. Spruce drew a long breath and began to count on her fingers--"This is 'ow we do every night for the visitors, makin' ready for hextras, in case any gentleman comes along in a motor which isn't expected--fust we 'as horduffs---"
"Save us!" exclaimed Mrs. Keeley--"What's they?"
"Well I calls 'em kickshaws, but the right name is horduffs, Primmins sez, bein' a butler he should know the French, an' 'tis a French word, an' it's nothin' but little dishes 'anded round, olives an' anchovies, an' sardines an' messes of every kind, enough to make ye sick to look at 'em--they swallers 'em, an' then we sends in soup--two kinds, white an' clear. They swallers THAT, an' the fish goes in--two kinds--the old Squire never had but one--THAT goes down, an' then comes the hentreys. Them's sometimes two--sometimes four--it just depends on the number we 'as at table. They'se all got French names--there's nothing plain English about them. But they'se only bits o' meat an' fowl, done up in different ways with sauces an' vegetables, an' the quality eats 'em up as though they was two bites of an apple. Then we sends in the roast and b'iled--and they takes good cuts off both--then there's game,--now that's nearly allus all eat up, for I like to pick a bone now and then myself if it comes down on a dish an' no one else wants it--but there's never a morsel left for me, I do assure you! Then comes puddings an' sweets--then cheese savouries--then ices--an' then coffee--an' all the time the wine's a-goin', Primmins sez, every sort, claret, 'ock, chably, champagne,--an' the Lord alone He knows wot their poor insides feels like when 'tis all a-mixin' up together an' workin' round arterwards. But, as I sez, 'tain't no business o' mine if the fash'nables 'as trained their stummicks to be like the ostriches which eats, as I'm told, 'ard iron nails with a relish, I onny know I should 'a' bin dead an' done with long ago if I put a quarter of the stuff into me which they puts into theirselves, while some of the gentlemen drinks enough whiskey an' soda to drown 'em if 'twas all put in a tub at once---"