out of it? And can't you see that all that nice, red gravy is completely dried away?"
"Well, I think the beef will suit you."
The beef was set before him, and he began to carve, but with the most rueful expressions of discontent.
"What id the matter with the beef, Mr. Bloomfield? I'm sure I thought it was very nice."
"And so it was very nice. A nicer joint could not be; but it is quite spoiled," replied he, dolefully.
"How so?"
"How so! Why, don't you see how it is cut? Dear—dear! it is quite shocking!"
"They must have cut it wrong in the kitchen then, for I'm sure I carved it quite properly here, yesterday."
"No doubt they cut it wrong in the kitchen—the savages! Dear—dear! Did ever anyone see such a fine piece of beef so completely ruined? But remember that, in future, when a decent dish leaves this table, they shall not touch it in the kitchen. Remember that, Mrs. Bloomfield!"
Notwithstanding the ruinous state of the
