UP AT GLADWYN Uncle Max had never been famous for punctuality.

He was slightly Bohemian in his habits, and rather given to desultory bachelor ways; but his domestic timekeeper, Mrs.Drabble, ruled him most despotically in the matter of meals, and it was amusing to see how she kept him and Mr.Tudor in order: neither of them ventured to keep the dinner waiting, for fear of the housekeeper's black looks; such an offence they knew would be expiated by cold fish and burnt-up steaks.

Uncle Max might invite the bishop to dine, but if his lordship chose to be late Mrs.Drabble would take no pains to keep her dinner hot.
'If gentlemen like to shilly-shally with their food, they must take things as they find them,' she would say; and if her master ever ventured to remonstrate with her, she took care that he should suffer for it for a week.
'We must humour Mother Drabble,' Mr.Tudor would say good-humouredly.
'Every one has a crotchet, and, after all, she is a worthy little woman, and makes us very comfortable.

I never knew what good cooking meant until I came to the vicarage.' And indeed Mrs.Drabble's custards and flaky crust were famed in the village.

Miss Darrell had once begged very humbly that her cook Parker might take a lesson from her, but Mrs.Drabble refused point-blank.
'There were those who liked to teach others, and plenty of them, but she was one who minded her own business and kept her own recipes.