"When they come to explain about the two Transits of Venus, and the American Work filling the Years between, "By Heaven, a 'Sandwich,'" cries Mr. Edgewise. "Take good care, Sirs, that something don't come along and eat it!" His pleasure at being able to utter a recently minted word, is at once much curtailed by the volatile Chef de Cuisine Armand Allegre, who rushes from the Kitchen screaming. "Sond-weech-uh! Sond-weech-uh!," gesticulating as well, "To the Sacrament of the Eating, it is ever the grand Insult!" Cries of "Anti-Britannic!" and "Shame, Mounseer!" Mitzi clutches herself. "No Mercy! Oh, he's so 'cute!" Young Dimdown may be seen working himself up to a level of indignation that will allow him at least to pull out his naked Hanger again, and wave it about a bit. "Where I come from," he offers, "Lord Sandwich is as much respected for his nobility as admired for his Ingenuity, in creating the great modern Advance in Diet which bears his name, and I would suggest,-- without of course wishing to offend,-- that it ill behooves some bloody little toad-eating foreigner to speak his name in any but a respectful manner." "Had I my batterie des couteaux," replies the Frenchman, with more gallantry than sense, "before that ridiculous little blade is out of his sheath, I can bone you,-- like the Veal!"