ERROR. There's nothing wrong with the soup. You attend to the tea. TEREBUS. I think we'll have coffee. Pass the coffee and I'll put that in and bring it to the boil. The coffee will kill the taste of the tea. ERROR. Hope you make it stronger than that. [During quiescent stage while each is thinking of a retort, 6.30 P.M. arrives, and the soup is put on the table. Interval elapses during which the victims are expected to eat the soup. VOICES [in loud chant from the table]. How did you do it, Error? TEREBUS [after a suitable period]. Any one like any more soup? A VOICE. Couldn't risk it, Governor. TEREBUS. Bowls up! Lick spoons! [Bowls are cleared away and baked penguin is put on the table. ERROR. Cooks have got their penguin, gentlemen. [Suspicious glances exchanged at table. Later, monotonous chant goes up, preceded by a soft "One, two, three." "Didn't scrape the blubber off, Error." [Plates cleared away and scraped into dogs' bucket. ERROR takes tapioca custard from oven in two dishes. ERROR [aside to TEREBUS]. Take some out of this one for us and don't forget to put that dish in front of the Doctor, because I spilled soda in the other. [TEREBUS takes two large helpings out and puts rest on table as directed. TEREBUS. You need not remember the cooks, gentlemen. A VOICE. Don't want to, if I can manage it. ERROR [aside to TEREBUS]. Put on the Algerian sweets, and then we can have ours. TEREBUS [taking several handfuls]. We'll put these aside for perks. [The sweets on the table, TEREBUS and ERROR retire to kitchen to have their dinner. ERROR. Is this my pudding? It's only an ordinary share. [TEREBUS is too busy to reply, and further eruption is prevented by the temporary plugging of ERROR. Cooking, under the inspiration of Mrs. Beeton, became a fine art: On bones we leave no meat on, For we study Mrs. Beeton. So said the song. On birthdays and other auspicious occasions dishes appeared which would tempt a gourmet. Puff-pastry, steam-puddings, jellies and blancmanges, original potages and consommes, seal curried and spiced, penguin delicately fried, vegetables reflavoured, trimmed and adorned were received without comment as the culinary standard rose. Birthdays were always greeted with special enthusiasm. Speeches were made, toasts were drunk, the supple boards of the table creaked with good things, cook and messman vied with each other in lavish hospitality, the Hut was ornate with flags, every man was spruce in his snowiest cardigan and neck-cloth, the gramophone sang of music-hall days, the wind roared its appreciation through the stove-pipe, and rollicking merriment was supreme. On such occasions the photographer and the biologist made a genial combination.