“I shall be delighted.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, as he hung up the receiver, Geraldine’s musical “good-by” singing in his ears.
When Hugh entered the breakfast room the next morning, he found all the members of his family at the table. This was an occurrence so unusual as to cause surprise. Of late years while the children were away at school, Marjorie and Hugh breakfasted together on an average of about once a month. Since Elinor’s return, she had ordered her tray sent up at least five mornings out of seven, and Howard had not shown himself one morning in the few days that he had been home. Therefore, Hugh’s inquiring glance was to be expected.
“Good morning,” he said, as he pulled out his watch. It was just 9:30. “What a lot of early birds!”
Marjorie laid aside the letter she was reading as she answered: “Good morning, Hugh. I don’t believe I am any earlier than usual. I breakfast every morning regularly at 9:15.”
“I wasn’t referring to you, Marjorie,” Hugh laughed good-naturedly. “I know your life is one long martyrdom of punctuality.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t especially appreciated, Hugh.” Marjorie flushed deeply, as she resumed the reading of her mail.
“I hadn’t the slightest intention of being sarcastic, my dear Marjorie,” he replied, seating himself at the table and reaching for his folded paper, “but as usual, you prefer to misconstrue my meaning.”
“Good morning, Dad,” Elinor interrupted, anxious to prevent a needless argument. “You’re looking fine, and you’re all dressed up. Is that a new suit?”
“Practically new. I’ve had it about a month, but this is the first time I’ve worn it.”