XVI.
In the morning, she found Lady Sackvil taking breakfast in her own room, looking pale and worn from the effects of reaction from fever and excitement. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Horribly cross. I think all other sensations are merged in ill-temper."
"A certain sign of convalescence. I am glad to see it."
Amelia laid down her egg-spoon, and sank back in her chair. "I wish," she remarked, "that it had pleased Heaven to make some variety in the shape of hen's eggs. I am so tired of seeing them always oval."
"You don't want any of these things, do you?" asked Mary, surveying the rather solid repast on the table.
"No—I can't bear the sight of it," said Amelia wearily.
"Rest on the couch until I come back." And Mary arranged the cushions with a skilful hand, and left the room noiselessly.
Presently she returned, bearing on a pretty little tray a glass filled with some frothy preparation, and two transparent wafers. Amelia revived at the sight. "I have dreamed of such things," she said. "This is the very apotheosis of breakfast!"