I will do justice to Aunt Maria's hot veal pasties,
and toasted lobsters, followed by her own special make of
cheesecakes, warm (there is no sense, to my thinking, in cold
cheesecakes; you lose half the flavour), and washed down by Uncle
John's own particular old ale, and acknowledge that they were most
tasty. I did justice to them then; Aunt Maria herself could not
but admit that.
After supper, Uncle brewed some whisky-punch. I did justice to
that also; Uncle John himself said so. He said he was glad to
notice that I liked it.
Aunt went to bed soon after supper, leaving the local curate, old
Dr. Scrubbles, Mr. Samuel Coombes, our member of the County
Council, Teddy Biffles, and myself to keep Uncle company. We
agreed that it was too early to give in for some time yet, so Uncle
brewed another bowl of punch; and I think we all did justice to
that--at least I know I did. It is a passion with me, is the
desire to do justice.
We sat up for a long while, and the Doctor brewed some gin-punch
later on, for a change, though I could not taste much difference
myself. But it was all good, and we were very happy--everybody was
so kind.
Uncle John told us a very funny story in the course of the evening.
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