"And so am I," reiterated his wife. "My nephew, Lord Edmund Montagu. I wonder when they will be here: I must set about making preparations for them immediately. Strike the kitchen automaton, Clara, to summon all the domestic assistants together, that I may give my orders. Dear me! what a bustle I am in." In one corner of the room stood a kind of organ, by playing certain notes upon which, intimation was given in the lower regions of what was wanted in the parlour; the organ having long tubes communicating with the kitchen, through which the sound was conveyed. Clara accordingly sat down, and by striking a few chords, soon assembled all the domestics of her father. "I expect company," said Mrs. Montagu, with an air of excessive consequence. "My brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose Montagu, and my nephew, Lord Edmund Montagu, are coming to stay with us during a triumph, with which her most gracious Majesty the Queen intends to honour Lord Edmund, my nephew. When did my brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose, say that he and my nephew, Lord Edmund, intended coming, Mr. Montagu? Clara, look at Sir Ambrose's letter. 'I intend,' says he, addressing Mr. Montagu, 'with your and Mrs. Montagu's permission, to be with you on such a day,' but I forget what day he mentions." "He does not say which day," replied Clara, consulting the letter. "Well, at any rate, it will be very soon," resumed Mrs. Montagu; "and we must prepare accordingly. You know, the connexions of my brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose, are very high, and I do not doubt but his intimate friend, the Duke of Cornwall, will call to see him--nay, perhaps, he may dine at my table with the two princesses, his daughter and niece. Indeed there's no knowing, but, perhaps, even her most gracious Majesty the Queen may condescend to enter my humble doors. Do you hear, all of you?--you must all be attentive. You Angelina, as cook, will have the most upon your hands--remember, nothing can be too plain for great people. Fricassees and ragouts are only devoured by the _canaille_." "I am instructed of that, Ma'am," replied Angelina, a great, fat, bonny-looking cook,--"but I flatter myself I know how to concoct dishes----" "That is the very thing I want to avoid," interrupted her mistress. "It is the fashion now for great people to have only one dish, and that as plainly cooked as possible. I have been told by a friend of mine, who got a peep at the great dinner the Queen gave the other day to the foreign ambassadors, that there was nothing in the world upon the table, but a huge round of boiled beef, and a great dish of smoking potatoes, with their jackets on."