The bowl he employed to mix it was about 9 in. across at the top, and its floor was rounded in shape, just as a salad bowl should be, to facilitate the thorough incorporation of the ingredients.  Then, taking a couple of eggs, he broke each one by knocking its side midway between the two ends against the rim of the bowl.  The greater part of the white of the egg was allowed to escape into a small vessel next the bowl, as it is not required for the mayonnaise, but comes in handy for other culinary purposes.  He now, with the yolk in one half of the shell, poured away all the white remaining in the other half.  Next he dexterously turned the yolk into this latter emptied shell and then got rid of the white left in the half previously occupied by the yolk.  One egg was thus served in this way, and then the other, and the two yolks were slipped into the bowl and broken up with a few stirs of the egg-whisk.  This latter is readily purchased from any ironmonger for the modest sum of one shilling.  The next proceeding was a wrinkle which is worth knowing, and it consisted of placing, within the bowl about a salt-spoonful of the ordinary dry mustard.  This was well beaten up in a second or two.  About a tablespoonful of good vinegar was next added, the whisk going vigorously to work, and thus blending well together egg yolk, dry mustard, and vinegar.  At this stage occurred a sort of halt or breathing time in the manipulation, as the chief peculiarity of the mayonnaise now began.  The chef, with his left hand, managed to tilt up the salad bowl and to hold a bottle of salad oil at the same time.  The latter being inverted, he kept it over the contents of the bowl in such a way as to allow only a drop or so of the oil to escape at a time.  Drip, drip, drip, went the oil, and as his right hand kept unceasingly plying the mixture with the whisk I could not help noticing what a fine wristy action he had.  Almost directly as the oil touched it the mayonnaise began to thicken, to swell, and to change in colour.  The remorseless whisk almost seemed to lash it into foam, and now the oil came faster and faster till the amber-looking sauce was ready, and all this within the space of at most two or three minutes.  I suppose he must have used quite a teacupful of olive oil.  Only one thing more:  after stirring in a sufficient quantity of pepper and salt, the chef desired me to taste the result, and as I did so I read the triumph in his eye—­it was superb.

It has been my aim, indeed my only aim, all through this chapter, to bring into prominence the important fact that the salad is a dish which is at once within the reach of every family, and moreover that it is one which is fairly a necessity in our semi-tropical climate.  For these very reasons, consequently, I have endeavoured to give the fullest directions for the mixing of a simple salad.  But it may be that after becoming thoroughly expert at making this latter, and being flushed with success, the aspirant