Mrs. ARDLEIGH (of Balham), and Mrs. ALLBUTT (of
Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst of a conversation,
in which each is anxious both to impress the other, and
ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated. At
present, they have not got beyond the discovery of a common
bond in Cookery._

_Mrs. Allbutt._ You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you;
squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the
butter in the pan, make a paste of it with _dry_ flour.

_Mrs. Ardleigh._ It sounds delicious--but you never can trust a Cook
to carry out instructions exactly.

_Mrs. All._ I never _do_. Whenever I want to have anything specially
nice for my husband, I make a point of seeing to it myself. He
appreciates it. Now _some_ men, if you cook for them, never notice
whether it's you or the Cook. My husband _does_.

_Mrs. Ard._ I wonder how you find time to do it. I'm sure _I_ should
never--

_Mrs. All._ Oh, it takes time, of course--but what does that matter
when you've nothing to do? Did I mention just a small pinch of Cayenne
pepper?--because that's a _great_ improvement!

_Mrs. Ard._ I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper with, better than
anything--and that's eggs.

_Mrs. All._ (_with elegant languor_). I hardly ever eat an egg.