"Mrs. Lathbun is the hostess, I suppose?"
"No, Mrs. O'Neil is the hostess, or rather, she's the host's wife. You must meet her to-day. Such a pretty, brown-eyed, girlish creature,—the last woman in the world to bring into a country hotel. She says herself that when you've been raised with a faucet and a sewer, it's terrible to get used to a cistern and a steep bank. She was born and brought up in Buffalo."
By this time Mary Cody had entered, beaming good morning, and placed the hot bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, before them.
"I'm going for the mail after breakfast, Mary," Alva said; "shall I bring yours?"
"Can't I bring yours?" said Mary Cody. "I can run up there just as well as not." Mary Cody was all smiles at the mere idea.
"No, I'll have to go myself to-day, I think. I'm expecting a registered letter."
"I'll be much obliged then if you will bring mine."
"If there are any for the house, I'll bring them all," Alva said; "will you tell Mrs. Lathbun that?"
"I'll tell her if I see her, but they're both gone. They went out early—off chestnutting, I suppose."
"Oh!"