“And so it is.”
“But what is this I hear about a breakfast?”
Billy's chin assumed its most stubborn squareness.
“I don't know, I'm sure, what you did hear,” she retorted calmly.
“Billy!”
Billy laughed. The chin was just as stubborn, but the smiling lips above it graced it with an air of charming concession.
“There, there, dear,” coaxed the mistress of Hillside, “don't fret. Besides, I'm sure I should think you, of all people, would want your guests fed!”
“But this is so elaborate, from what I hear.”
“Nonsense! Not a bit of it.”
“Rosa says there'll be salads and cakes and ices—and I don't know what all.”