“Yes,” said Patty, this time with decided shortness; “how very nice this sweetbread is! I’ve always been so fond of them. But one oughtn’t to serve them on a sweetless day, ought one?”
“Oh, Patty, what a silly joke!” chided Helen. “You mean a meatless day!”
“Both ought to be barred,” smiled Patty; “also they ought not to be served on a breadless day!”
“It looks as if they wouldn’t be served at all any more,” said Herron; “let’s gather these sweetbreads while we may!”
“And perhaps the war will soon be over, and then we can eat what we like,” Helen suggested. “It will be over soon, you know, because of the eagles.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yes, it’s a true omen. You know down at Beverly, New Jersey, long ago,—oh, during the Revolution,——”
“Is this a real honest-to-goodness, once-upon-a-time story?” asked Van Reypen.
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I move we move to the sun-parlour, and have our coffee there. We’ll take our coffee,—sugarless, if Patty says so,—and then we can hear the story, and then we must see about going home.”