I didn't like to ask the
waiter. One doesn't care to be taken for an ignorant stranger. Well, I
landed one on my plate and began carving at it, to see if there was
anything eatable inside the shell, when the durned thing slipped away
from my knife and crashed on to the floor. Bounced up like a marble. I
called for a nutcracker--'I shall want the largest you've got,' I said.
They couldn't find one. Now I'm not the sort of man, Mr. Heard, to be
beaten by a vegetable, if it really was a vegetable. Because, you see,
it behaved more like a blamed mineral. I sent for the head waiter, and
took him into my confidence. I tried to talk English, like I'm talking
to you. 'What d'ye call these things?' I asked. 'Marrowfats, Sir.' 'Ah,
I thought they weren't peas. You've got PETITS POIS down on the bill of
fare. Better get that put right. And now, how d'ye eat them?' 'You bite
them!' That's what he said. 'You bite them.' Of course I didn't believe
him. I thought it was just a bit of English humour, especially as the
other waiter was looking the opposite way all the time.
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