The Peculiar Allergy

Tenley’s Prompt: “Write about someone with a peculiar allergy. You have five minutes.”

“Mrs. Dalbrook set down the steaming dinner plate at the center of the table with ease.
‘I hope this will do,’ she said modestly. ‘It was just a hurried sort of thing.’

‘Looks splendid, darling,’ Mr. Dalbrook said affectionately, and no sooner fetched a slice of the roast duck with a pair of skewers, setting it onto Lord Hallston’s plate.

‘What’s in it?’ he asked.

‘Only my secret,’ Mrs. Dalbrook said naughtily.

No sooner did she say so than did Lord Hallbrook gobble up the confection, at which point he, with widened eyes, gazed up at Mrs. Dalbrook.

‘There isn’t lamb butter in this, is there?’

Mrs. Dalbrook paused, and with an offended expression turned towards him. ‘Why yes, there is. It’s my secret!’

‘I’m deathly allergic!’ the man exclaimed.


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