Mrs. Halliday touched a match to the kindling and put the stove covers back in place.
“There isn’t anything lazy about Sally, but she generally does wait until the sun is up,” she returned.
She filled the teakettle and then, adjusting her glasses, took a more critical look at Don.
“Wasn’t ye warm enough last night?” she demanded.
“Plenty, thank you,” he answered.
“Perhaps bein’ in new surroundings bothered you,” she suggested; “I can’t ever sleep myself till I git used to a place.”
“I slept like a log,” he assured her.
“Is this the time ye ginerally git up in New York?”
“Not quite as early as this,” he admitted. “But, you see, that rooster––”