The waiter had come up the room bearing the pride of the hotel, the grand green Stilton with the beautiful autumn leaf heart shading away to rich plum-coloured cavities. He placed it on the table with a solemn air. ‘It’s a beautiful Stilton,’ Frank remarked. Maude tried desperately to be rude. ‘Well, dear, I don’t think it is so very beautiful,’ was the best that she could do. It was not much, but it had a surprising effect upon the waiter. He turned and hurried away. ‘There now, you’ve shocked him?’ cried Frank. ‘Where _has_ he gone, Frank?’ ‘To complain to the management about your language.’ ‘No, Frank. Please tell me! Oh, I wish I hadn’t been so rude. Here he is again.’ ‘All right. Sit tight,’ said Frank. A sort of procession was streaming up the hall. There was their fat waiter in front with a large covered cheese-dish. Behind him was another with two smaller ones, and a third with some yellow powder upon a plate was bringing up the rear. ‘This is Gorgonzola, main,’ said the waiter, with a severe manner. ‘And there’s Camembert and Gruyère behind, and powdered Parmesan as well. I’m sorry that the Stilton don’t give satisfaction.’ Maude helped herself to Gorgonzola and looked very guilty and uncomfortable. Frank began to laugh. ‘I meant you to be rude to _me_, not to the cheese,’ said he, when the procession had withdrawn. ‘I did my best, Frank. I contradicted you.’ ‘Oh, it was a shocking display of temper.’ ‘And I hurt the poor waiter’s feelings.’ ‘Yes, you’ll have to apologise to his Stilton before he will forgive you.’ ‘And I don’t believe he is a bit more convinced that we are veterans than he was before.’ ‘All right, dear; leave him to me. Those reminiscences of mine must have settled him. If they didn’t, then I feel it is hopeless.’ * * * * * It was as well for his peace of mind that Frank could not hear the conversation between the fat waiter and their chambermaid, for whom he nourished a plethoric attachment. They had half an hour off in the afternoon, and were comparing notes. ‘Nice-lookin’ couple, ain’t they, John?’ said the maid, with the air of an expert. ‘I don’t know as we’ve ‘ad a better since the spring weddin’s.’ ‘I don’t know as I’d go as far as that,’ said the fat waiter critically. ‘’E’d pass all right. ’E’s an upstandin’ young man with a good sperrit in ’im.’ ‘What’s wrong with ’er, then?’ ‘It’s a matter of opinion,’ said the waiter. ‘I likes ’em a bit more full-flavoured myself. And as to ’er taste, why there, if you ’ad seen ’er turn up ’er nose at the Stilton at lunch.’ ‘Turn up ’er nose, did she? Well, she seemed to me a very soft-spoken, obligin’ young lady.’ ‘So she may be, but they’re a queer couple, I tell you. It’s as well they are married at last.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because they ’ave been goin’ on most owdacious before’and. I ’ave it from their own lips, and it fairly made me blush to listen to it. Awful, it was, _awful_!’