“I think I can get some warm milk and bread for the child, ma’am,” said the man.
“Oh, I shall be very much obliged to you if you will. We can wait better than he can,” said Drusilla, gratefully.
And the man went out and fetched the milk and bread, which, at first, Lenny refused to touch, peremptorily exclaiming:
“No, no, no! No b’ed milt!—more s’imp!”
But being assured that his slaves could not procure shrimps for him, he seemed to divine that even despots cannot compel people to perform impossibilities, and also being very hungry, he ate his bread and milk.
When Lenny had finished his meal, the party separated and went to their bedrooms to lie down for an hour or two. They did not expect to sleep, but they slept—so soundly that they did not awake until some time after seven o’clock, when a waiter rapped at General Lyon’s door to take his orders about the breakfast.
The General referred him for instructions to Mrs. Hammond.
And soon the whole party, much refreshed by their sleep, assembled in the private parlor for breakfast.
It was after eight, however, before it was finally set upon the table.
There were fine Mocha coffee, English breakfast tea, rich cream, sweet butter, fresh eggs, broiled ham and broiled pigeons, light bread, toast and muffins.