Gibbous House 43

A sparsely lean and forbidding figure entered bearing a huge covered platter. Her strength must have been a sinewy sort. Garbed in black with hair shorn as short as a man and so white , in conjunction with the pallor of her skin, as to offer as monochromatic a study of the matronly figure as ever I had seen, she said not a word. Placing the huge dish on the table, she uncovered so massive a pike as the dish could scarce contain. It was surrounded by whole grunions and the leaves of an uncommon large lettuce. The Professor let out a groan of what I assumed was appreciation. Maccabi explained:

‘It is customary to eat fish or meat for the Shabbos meal, we thought the fish would have something of novelty for you, sir.’

I forebore to say that I might have expired from a surfeit of novelty since arriving at the house.

The skeletal Mrs. Gonderthwaite assembled our chargers in the centre of the table and began serving portions of the freshwater fish and whitebaits on them. Picking up two of these fine platters, she made first of all towards Maccabi, who wisely shook his head. Veering around the table she appeared to be making for the Professor’s place setting. The diminutive fellow, who, despite a complex arrangement of a wooden block and some cushions atop his chair could barely reach his cutlery, held up a hand. At which point I interposed:

‘No, no, I insist Professor. Guests should always be served first, don’t you think?’

He made no reply other than the expressive shrug for which his people are noted.

Maccabi stood up, with little grace I thought, as he had to steady the chair behind him. He then set about pouring the blessed wine. Noting his decision to begin with me, I waved him towards Miss Pardoner, at least as soon as he had reached my glass. I informed Mrs Gonderthwaite that I expected, as the host, to be served last , and, plates in hand, she accomplished a graceful curtsey, while nodding her agreement. So, whatever Mrs Gonderthwaite’s intent had been in the apportionment of the viands, I was not displeased to mark that my plate showed much less of the intricate designs favored by the Spodes Major and Minor than the others’. The woman departed, as silent as a wraith and perhaps as insubstantial.

I waited expectantly. No further mummery being forthcoming, I bade the table commence. Opposite me Miss Pardoner manipulated her cutlery with less delicacy than one might have expected: she did not, of course, have a simian grip on the handle of her knife by any means. She merely applied her silverware with a methodical and efficient will and seemed to be making very short work of her vittles. Maccabi pushed his fish around his platter like a sulky boy of five. The Professor ate at a fashionable slow pace. I raised my glass:

‘To absent friends, and those soon to depart.’

Maccabi and the Professor reluctantly raised their own. My ward raised hers to the accompaniment of either the most prodigiously lethargic tic, or the most lascivious wink, I had ever witnessed.