THE MAKE SHIFT DINNER.

Auckland Star, Volume I, Issue 204, 3 September 1870, Page 2

THE MAKE SHIFT DINNER.

[FeOM THE "TbTALS AND CONFBSBIONB of a Housekeeper."] VTost housekeepers have occasionally experienced the inconvenience and embarrassments occasioned by the visit of ome unexpected guest to dinner. However well-order*d the arrangements of » house mny b>\ there are times in. whic'< the presence of a visitor, canr-ot but prove irksome and unpleasant, tnouirh u<ide r •rdinary circumstances the fri^ndiv "' enll hi ' might he very welcome and agreeable, ft is not uncommon for housekeepers, in addition to the daily cleanings and othe< i»f>usehold -luties —to set apart a certain day, in about every fortnight, for n general clear-out aud arrangement of the iiome —md such a day the uninvited gust is as likely to choose as any other. The washing-day is another occasion on which the presence of visitors may be said to be decidedly unpleasant, and in illustration of this, we may take the following from rhe household cxi eriences of Mrs. us Mated by that lady herself:— ft was " washing day ;" that <iay of all 'ays in theVeek m'St dreadel by hou^e'feeuers. We had a poor breakfast, o •o-\rse. C >ok h*d to heip with the wash;n;, a-id, as wa-'hing wathe iraportanl liirivj for the <^ay, everything else was loomed to suffer, ''he wa<h kettle wato her of grater moment than the tou-k-tiL' or coffee-pot; an I the boiling of vush * at^r first in consideration.compared with br iling the st>ak. Ihe breakfast bell rung nearly half an hour later than u^ual. As I entered the l;ninir-room, f saw tlint nearly everything vas in disorder, and that the table wa> I ttle over half set. Scarcely had I tnken my seat, ere the bell was in my ha^d. II There's no sugar on the table, Kitty." These were my words, and the girl entered, in obedience to my summons. "Oh, I forgot!" she ejaculated, and hurriedly supplied the deficiency. Ting a-ling a-ling went my bell, ere she bad reached the kitchen. I here's no knife and fork for the steak," paid I, as Kitty re-appeared. ihe knife and fork were furnished, but not with a very amiable grace. " What's the matter with this coffee ?" asked Mr Smith, after sipping a spoonful or two. " It's got a queer taste." " I'm sure I don't know." It was plain that I was going to have a trying day ; and I began to feel a little worried. My reply was not, therefore, m=ide in a very composed voice. Mr. rfmitb. continued to sip his coffee with a spoon, and to taste the liquid •oubtingly. At length he pushed his cup rora him, saying: "It's no use; I can't drink that! I wish you would just taste it. Ido believe Kitty has dropped a piece of soap iuto the coffee-pot." By this time T had turned out a cup of the fluid for myself, and proceeded to try its quality. It certainly had a queer taste ; but as to the substance to which, it was iudebted for its peculiar flavour, I was in total ignorance. My husband insisted that it was soap. I thought differently ; but we made no argument on the subjeot. 'I he steak was found, on trial, to be burned so badly that it was not n't to be eaten. And my husband had to make his menl of bread and butter and cold water. \s for myself, this spoiling of our breakfast for* no good reason, completely destroyed both my appetite and mj temper. "You'd belter get your dinner at an eating-house, Mr. Smith," snid I, as he aros • from the table. " It's washing day, an<l we shall have nothing comfortable." " 1 hing* will be no more comfortable for you than for me,' was kindly replied iiy mv h.u->baud. " We jiitallouly have make-shift dinner," said I. " 1 like a good make-shift dinner answered Mr. Smith. " There is soaieLhmg so out of the ordinary routine of ribs, loins, aud sirloins—sometimes so comfortable and independent about it. JNo, you •annot eat your mak»-»hift dinner atone."

"Drop the word good from your lescription and the dinner wil be a'to c- . her another Hffair,' said f. " >o, don 11 .rome home to day, if you ph-axe ; tor: everything promises to be most unci>mortflb'e. Get yourst-I'ft good dinner at an eating'house, a.id leave me to ga, through the day a* w-11 a8 I ran." f ! 11 An I you are really in earnest ?' said my husband, seriously "I certainly am," was my reply. " r ntirely in earnest. So, just oblige me by not coming home to dinner." Mr. Smith promised; and there was so much off my .nind. I could not let him come home without seeing that he bad a good dinn. r. Hut, almost anything Would <]o for me and the children. In some things, I am compelled to say that my husband is a little uncertain His memory is not alwa\ s to lie d-pended on. Deeply absorbed in bu<in> ss as he was at that tine, he frequently let things iif minor importance pass from his thoughts altogether. So it happened on the present occasion. He f.rgot that it was washing day, and that he had promised to dine from home. Punctually at half past one he left his place of business, as usual, and took his way homeward. As hs walked along he met an old Jriend who lived in a neighbouring town, and who was on a visit to our city. " Why. )fr Jones! How glad lam to see you ! "When did did you arrive?" And mvlhusband grasped the hand of his friend tftg-ily. t "Came in last evening, replied vir. Jones, "Km well _you look, Smith P How is yuur family ?" " Weil -very Well. When do you

leave?" M " By this afternoon's line. " So soon P You make no stay at all." " I came on busiue>B, and must go back again wiih as little d-lay as possible/ 11 Then you must g > and dine with me, Jones. I won't tnke no for an answer, E want to have a long talk with you about old times." 11 I hank you, Mr. Smith," replied Mr. Tones. " But as I don't happen to know your good 1-idv, I hardly feel free to accept your invitation." "Don't hesitate for that. Shell be d lighted to see you Always glad U. ifi'-et any of my old fa-nds. -0 come along. Ive a dozen things to say to yoU." "I'm really afraid of intruding on jour wife," said Mr. Junes, still holding back fr>m the invitation. " Nonsen c.! answered my husband. "My friends are hers. Mie will be delighted, to see you. I've talked of you o her a hundred times."

At ihis Mr. Jones yielded. " I can't promise y >v anything extra," said Mr. Smith, as they walked along. ' iNoiliing more than a good, plain family dinner, and a warm welcome," "All I could ask or desire," returned Mr Jones. It wis a few minutes to two o clock. Tiie bell had rung for dinner ; an.l I wa, ju«t rising to go to the dini tg rom, when I heard the street door open, a-nJ the sound of my husband's voice in the i>assasie. 1 here wa< a man in company wi<h him, for I dist nctly heard the tread ■fa pair of. feet. What couid tnis neau ? I recuaiued seated, listening with attention My husband entered the parlour with his com pa 1 i on, ttlking in h cneerful, auioated stiain; aud I heard him pull up thd blind* and throw open the shutters. resently he came tripping lightly up the stairs to my sitting room. " Ire brought a friend home to dinner, Jane.' 1 said he, hs coolly as if it were not washing diy;and as if he had not told me on going out that he would dive at an eating house. Thi* was a little too much, for my patience and forbearance. " Are you beside yours-.lf, Mr. Smith ?" f replied, my face instantly becoming flushed, and "my eyes glancing out upon uiin the suddeu iudignation i ieit at such treatment. " Why, Jane ! Jane ! This it not kind in you," said my husband, witii regret, aud displeasure in his voice. "It is rather hard if a man can't ask an old friend home to dine with him once in five years, without asking the spac al perm'ssion of his wife." "Mr. ! ■•* re you not aware thai this is washing day ? ' there was an instant change in my husband's countenance. He seemed bewildered ft»r a f«w moments. "And, moreover," I continued, " are you not aware that I was to have a make-.-hi«t dinner at home, an>i that you were to d'ne at an eating-hou*e P" '•I declareP >»r, ttmith struck his hsmds together, and turned around onc>upon his heel —" I entirely forgot about that." "What's to be done?" said I, almost crying with vexation. " I've nothing for dinner but fried ham and eggs." "The best we can do is tha best," returned Mr. bmith. " I'ou can give Mr. Jones a hearty welcome, and that will compensate for any defects iv the dinner. 1 forewarned him.that, We should not entertain him very sumptuously." 11 You'd b tter tell him the whole truth «t once," said I in answer to this ; " and then take him to an eating-house " But my good husband would hear notliing of this. H- had invit. d Irs old friend to dine with him, and dine lie must, if it was only on a piece of dry bread. " Hash up something. Do the bes1 you can," he. re urned. "We can wait for half a*i hour." •' I ye nothing in Ihe house, I tell you," was my an-i«'«r, made in n<> very pea ant 1 (ones; for I felt veiy rnu'h ira ated itnd outraged by my husband's thoughtless conduct. " There, there, Jane, don't get excited about th« matter," said he, soothingly.

But his words were nbt like oil to —ot> troubled waters ot my spirit. " I am excised," was my respond " How run I hep beint? soP It is tog ajto ni'io'i ! Ynu should Lave had more con- *j^ Si'leratiou." '}'

iiut, tniking was of no nse. Mr. Jones was in tl.e i arlour, and had com? to take a family dinuer with us. So, nothing was left bat to put a good face on the matter; or, at least, to try and do so. "Dinner's on the table now," said 1^ " All is there that we can bare to-day. So just invite your friend to tbe dining room, where you will find me." So saying, I took a little fellow by the hand, wlio always eat with U9, «nd I led him away, feeling, as my lady readers will very naturally suppos , in not tin mo 4 amiable humour in the woricL I hid juot got the child, who was-p etty hungry, seated in his bi^h chair, wli.-n mv hushand and bis truest iuade their appearance; and I wa^ introduced. Sorry am I to chronicle the fact—but truth compels me to make a faithful record -that my reception of the stranger was by no weans gracious. I tried to smile; but a amile was such a mockery of my real feelings, that every facial muscle refused to play the hypocrite. The man was not welcome, ana it was impossible for me to conc< al this. "A plain family dinner, you see," said Mr. Smith, as we took.our placei at the meagre board. "We are plain people. s)ial) I help you vo some of the ham and He tri?d to smile pleasantly, and to seem very much at his Case. But the attempt was far from successful. •• I wmt some Dod't give him all!" screamed out the hungry child at my side, •stretching out his bands towards the poorly supplied dish, from which my hupl>and was about to help our guest.

My (ace, whic'i was red ejough before, now became like scarlet. A moment longer I remained at the table, and thm rising up quickly look the impatient child ia my arm*, and carried him screaming from the ivom. I did ni.it return to grace t c dinner table with my unattractive presence. O' whnt passed, particularly between my husband and hi* friend Mr. Jones, who had left his luxurious dinner at the hotel to *njoy"a plain family dinner," with his old acquaintance. I n-'Ver ventured to make inquiry. Tliey iii I n >t remain very Ions; at the table ; nor very long in the house after finishing th^ir frugal meal. I have heard since that Mr. Jones has expressed commiseration for my busbHnd, .is the married partner of a real termagant. I don't much wonder at his indifferent opinion ; for, I rather think I must have shown in my face something of the indignant fire that was in me. Mr. Smith, who was too much in the habit of inviting people home to take a •' family dinner" Mith him on the spur of the moment, has never committed that error since. His niortifiiaMon was too severe t</ be *»a*iiy forgotten.