In the Embury home, breakfast was a pleasant send-off for the day. Both Sanford and Eunice were of the sort who wake up wide-awake, and their appearance in the dining-room was always an occasion of merry banter and a leisurely enjoyment of the meal. Aunt Abby, too, was at her best in the morning, and breakfast was served sufficiently early to do away with any need for hurry on Sanford’s part.
The morning paper, save for its headlines, was not a component part of the routine, and it was an exceptionally interesting topic that caused it to be unfolded.
This morning, however, Miss Ames reached the dining-room before the others and eagerly scanned the pages for some further notes of the affair in Newark.
But with the total depravity of inanimate things and with the invariable disappointingness of a newspaper, the columns offered no other information than a mere announcement of the coming event.
“Hunting for details of your wild-goose chase?” asked Embury, as he paused on the way to his own chair to lean over Aunt Abby’s shoulder.
“Yes, and there’s almost nothing! Why do you take this paper?”
“You’ll see it all to-day, so why do you want to read about it?” laughed a gay voice, and Eunice came in, all fluttering chiffon and ribbon ends.
She took the chair Ferdinand placed for her, and picked up a spoon as the attentive man set grapefruit at her plate. The waitress was allowed to serve the others, but Ferdinand reserved to himself the privilege of waiting on his beloved mistress.
“Still of a mind to go?” she said, smiling at her aunt.
“More than ever! It’s a perfectly heavenly day, and we’ll have a good ride, if nothing more.”