“Come, Mr. Frederick,” said she after tea, “you promised to make me laugh; and nobody can make me laugh so well as yourself.” “Oh, brother,” said Marianne, “show Mrs. Theresa Dr. Carbuncle eating his dinner; and I’ll be Mrs. Carbuncle.” _Marianne_. Now, my dear, what shall I help you to? _Frederick_. “My dear!” she never calls him my dear, you know, but always Doctor. _Mar._ Well then, doctor, what will you eat to-day? _Fred._ Eat, madam! eat! nothing! nothing! I don’t see anything here I can eat, ma’am. _Mar._ Here’s eels, sir; let me help you to some eel—stewed eel;—you used to be fond of stewed eel. _Fred._ Used, ma’am, used! But I’m sick of stewed eels. You would tire one of anything. Am I to see nothing but eels? And what’s this at the bottom? _Mar._ Mutton, doctor, roast mutton; if you’ll be so good as to cut it. _Fred._ Cut it, ma’am! I can’t cut it, I say; it’s as hard as a deal board. You might as well tell me to cut the table, ma’am. Mutton, indeed! not a bit of fat. Roast mutton, indeed! not a drop of gravy. Mutton, truly! quite a cinder. I’ll have none of it. Here, take it away; take it downstairs to the cook. It’s a very hard case, Mrs. Carbuncle, that I can never have a bit of anything that I can eat at my own table, Mrs. Carbuncle, since I was married, ma’am, I that am the easiest man in the whole world to please about my dinner. It’s really very extraordinary, Mrs. Carbuncle! What have you at that corner there, under the cover? _Mar._ Patties, sir; oyster patties. _Fred._ Patties, ma’am! kickshaws! I hate kickshaws. Not worth putting under a cover, ma’am. And why not have glass covers, that one may see one’s dinner before one, before it grows cold with asking questions, Mrs. Carbuncle, and lifting up covers? But nobody has any sense: and I see no water plates anywhere, lately. _Mar._ Do, pray, doctor, let me help you to a bit of chicken before it gets cold, my dear. _Fred._ (_aside_). “My dear,” again, Marianne! _Mar._ Yes, brother, because she is frightened, you know, and Mrs. Carbuncle always says “my dear” to him when she’s frightened, and looks so pale from side to side; and sometimes she cries before dinner’s done, and then all the company are quite silent, and don’t know what to do. “Oh, such a little creature; to have so much sense, too!” exclaimed Mrs. Theresa, with rapture. “Mr. Frederick, you’ll make me die with laughing! Pray go on, Dr. Carbuncle.” Fred. Well, ma’am, then if I must eat something, send me a bit of fowl; a leg and wing, the liver wing, and a bit of the breast, oyster sauce, and a slice of that ham, if you please, ma’am. (_Dr. Carbuncle eats voraciously_, _with his head down to his plate_, _and_, _dropping the sauce_, _he buttons up his coat tight across the breast_.) _Fred._ Here; a plate, knife and fork, bit o’ bread, a glass of Dorchester ale!