Compot

"She knows well enough I like her," so his liking said in confidence to his vanity, and even he hardly overheard them talk; "better a great deal than I knew it myself, till old Strafford got together this confounded stupid dinner-party (he caught Miss Chattesworth glancing at him with a peculiar look of inquiry). Why the plague did he ask me here? it was Puddock's turn, and he likes venison and compots,[…]"