“No, I see some clouds,” yelled her maid.
“I didn’t ask you to speak loud,” said the old lady. “I always hear what you say. Always.”
Janice went out of the room and voiced her views of the weather to the proprietors of the expedition. The proprietors were having an uproarious breakfast on ham and eggs—all but Mitchell, who sat somewhat aloof and contented himself with an old and reliable breakfast food long known to his race.
“Are you really going to take her up the Sound to-day?” the maid demanded of the merry mob.
“I’m not,” said Burnett; “it’s the yacht that’s going to take her. Pass the syrup, Jack, like the jack you are.”
“Doesn’t she feel well?” Jack asked, passing the syrup as requested. “If she doesn’t feel well, of course, we won’t go.”
“I like that,” said Mitchell, “when it’s my day for my party and my cook all provisioned with provisions for provisioning us all. How long do you suppose ice cream stays together in this month of roses, anyhow?”
“She is very well,” said the maid quietly, “but it’s blowing pretty fresh here in the city and I thought that out on the Sound—”
“Blowing fresh, is it?” laughed Burnett; “well, it’ll salt her fast enough when we get out. Don’t you fuss over what’s none of your business, my dear girl; just trot along upstairs and dress dolly, and when she’s dressed we’ll take her off your hands.”
Jack appeared unduly quiet.