"Jeanne!" gasped Mrs. Huntington. "What will that wretched child do next!"
Jeanne was late to breakfast that morning. She had fallen asleep after her bath. When she slipped, rather guiltily, into her place at the table, her Uncle Charles, who ordinarily paid no attention to her, raised his eyebrows, superciliously, and fixed his gaze upon her—as if she were an interesting stranger. Her grandfather, too, regarded her oddly. So did her Aunt Agatha.
"I'm sorry I'm so late," apologized Jeanne. "I slept too long."
"You are a deceitful child," accused Mrs. Huntington, frigidly. "You were not asleep. For how long, may I ask, have you been bathing in the fountain?"
"About two weeks," said Jeanne, calmly. "It's lovely."
"Lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Huntington. "It's disgraceful! And for two weeks! Are you sure that no one has seen you?"
"Only a policeman. He was on horseback. You see, I frightened a blue-jay and he squawked. The policeman stopped to see what had frightened him, but I pretended I was part of the statue in the middle of the fountain."
Uncle Charles suddenly choked over his coffee. Her grandfather, too, began suddenly to cough. Dignified James, standing unobserved near the wall, actually bolted from the room.
Mrs. Huntington continued to frown at the small culprit.
"You may eat your breakfast," said she, sternly. "Come to me afterwards in my room."