I’ve heard that the cooking’s the best in London.”
“So they say. Shall we be going in?”
“All right. I expect,” said young Bingo, “that at the end of the meal—or possibly at the beginning—the waitress will say, ‘Both together, sir?’ Reply in the affirmative. I haven’t a bean.”
“Hasn’t your uncle forgiven you yet?”
“Not yet, confound him!”
I was sorry to hear the row was still on. I resolved to do the poor old thing well at the festive board, and I scanned the menu with some intentness when the girl rolled up with it.
“How would this do you, Bingo?” I said at length. “A few plovers’ eggs to weigh