DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0059
PASSING SKETCHES.
43
for thy sake I were Tennyson ! then should the world long
since have reverenced thee with a reverence equal only to
that inspired by the “ Waiter at the Cock !”
At once there was a sudden starting up from our easels;
a flinging down of porte-crayons, a rushing up to the big
basket, a delight and rejoicing in English and German over
the contents it exhibited.
“ Splendid goose !” cries Clare; “ Herrliche Mehl-speise^
cries Anna. The magnificent kitchen-maid laughs and shows
her white teeth •, and we laugh and bustle about, and
sweep off prints and books, boxes and flowers, from the
little round table in the middle of the room. But plates !
knives ! spoons ! Oh, thou celestial kitchen-maid, where
are they ? Forgotten, as mere sublunary trash ! What is to
be done ? Oh, borrow plates, and knives and forks, from the
Hausmeisterin. Away goes the kitchen-maid, and returns
with a plate, a knife, and fork. That was all very well for
the goose :—but when we came to the pudding ! “ Eat it
out of the dish/’ suggests Clare ; “ this is a pic-nic among
the cartoons, instead of among trees, that’s all!” And
the pudding was eaten out of the dish with no lack of
merriment: but most of all did our laughter increase when
we came to drink our coffee, which, by the by, I ought to
have said arrived on a little green tray, all flooded with rain;
the coffee in one little white-lidded jug, the milk in another,
the sugar safe and dry in the basket. But again there
were neither coffee-cups nor spoons ! Beloved kitchen-
maid ! thy wits of a truth had gone wool-gathering ! But
that was quite a minor discomfort—a difficulty which we
speedily got rid of, simply by mixing coffee, milk, and sugar,
in a china jar which we keep at the studio for flowers ; and
then, having duly blended the ingredients, the delicious
beverage was poured into the two jugs, and each drank her
coffee with as much gravity as she could muster.
But why, instead of all this nonsense, have I not
43
for thy sake I were Tennyson ! then should the world long
since have reverenced thee with a reverence equal only to
that inspired by the “ Waiter at the Cock !”
At once there was a sudden starting up from our easels;
a flinging down of porte-crayons, a rushing up to the big
basket, a delight and rejoicing in English and German over
the contents it exhibited.
“ Splendid goose !” cries Clare; “ Herrliche Mehl-speise^
cries Anna. The magnificent kitchen-maid laughs and shows
her white teeth •, and we laugh and bustle about, and
sweep off prints and books, boxes and flowers, from the
little round table in the middle of the room. But plates !
knives ! spoons ! Oh, thou celestial kitchen-maid, where
are they ? Forgotten, as mere sublunary trash ! What is to
be done ? Oh, borrow plates, and knives and forks, from the
Hausmeisterin. Away goes the kitchen-maid, and returns
with a plate, a knife, and fork. That was all very well for
the goose :—but when we came to the pudding ! “ Eat it
out of the dish/’ suggests Clare ; “ this is a pic-nic among
the cartoons, instead of among trees, that’s all!” And
the pudding was eaten out of the dish with no lack of
merriment: but most of all did our laughter increase when
we came to drink our coffee, which, by the by, I ought to
have said arrived on a little green tray, all flooded with rain;
the coffee in one little white-lidded jug, the milk in another,
the sugar safe and dry in the basket. But again there
were neither coffee-cups nor spoons ! Beloved kitchen-
maid ! thy wits of a truth had gone wool-gathering ! But
that was quite a minor discomfort—a difficulty which we
speedily got rid of, simply by mixing coffee, milk, and sugar,
in a china jar which we keep at the studio for flowers ; and
then, having duly blended the ingredients, the delicious
beverage was poured into the two jugs, and each drank her
coffee with as much gravity as she could muster.
But why, instead of all this nonsense, have I not