"Good morning, Aunt Dove. How did you sleep, Uncle Evas?" and Toney bestowed her kisses all round. "Chum, dear, did you dream of your piccaninnies? Powder me pink! What a little cart-load of letters for Mr. Russell! I think he needn't have them for breakfast, they would swamp his food."
"I can't understand——" said Lady Dove, who had not jumped to conclusions as did Sir Evas.
"Evidently he is a gentleman well known to-day," continued Toney. Then she glanced on her own pile. "He may have mine too, except a few! I never did like letters much, people don't say what they really want to say in letters, do they?"
"I can't imagine what you mean, Antonia," answered Lady Dove, heading the procession to the dining-room and sweeping her rustling skirts with determination. "If people don't want to say what they do say, they don't write. I must say you do make the most illogical remarks of anyone I know."
Prayers followed—at which his Royal Highness did not put in an appearance, and Lady Dove said the responses louder and more impressively than usual, which was her way of letting the household know she was ruffled.
"I say, Toney, is this what we are to expect?" asked Sir Evas in a low tone to his niece, "the revenue will give you a testimonial!"
"I want to keep my name out of it," answered Toney in the same tone, "and isn't that the good of a secretary?"
"Have you offered free meals to the county?"
"Oh no! Uncle, that's bad political economy. Hush!"
"Pray, Evas, what are you remarking? I think conversations in low tones are most unseemly at breakfast. Ah! Mr. Plantagenet Russell, I hope you slept well. We are rather early as Sir Evas always thinks he has so much to do, a remark I notice which often hides idleness."